Shattered
by xLevitate
Summary: Part 1 of "Shattered" series ; Gotham is a horrible place. With Jane working for both Falcone and Gordon, she hopes to secure her position no matter which side ends up winning the battle raging around her. But when the arrival of a masked vigilante throws her off balance, can she maintain her strong stance in the middle? BrucexOC ; Takes place in Batman Begins.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Disclaimer: I own nothing but the characters that I create. I'm sure you'll be able to point those out. Wish I did own a certain billionaire though. **

**This story is rated M for: language, dark themes, violence, sexual themes, torturing, and drastic character change. My characters hate me :( **

**I would also like to note that this story IS completed. I actually wrote it all out before I started posting it. It is currently going through editing, and here is the first chapter. So, unlike 'Been to Hell', I will not have long hiatuses in postings. This story will also have a sequel, which I will be working on soon. College life and writing life is tough. BUT I CAN DO THIS. Reviews make it better :) If you don't like Jane at first, hold out, she gets better. Trust me. She's my favorite OC that I've written. You can find me on Facebook to see book covers, banners, and character pics by searching: Laurel McSuper . Send me a request, yo ;)**

**On with the show...**

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When you are a killer, the night is your protection.

It hid the lithe, thin body of the young woman easily, cloaking her and shielding her from the headlights of the cars as they drove by, unaware that she was in the alley, watching the cars go by with a reserved indifference. Normal Gotham citizens going about their normal daily lives, either going home to their families or going to a liquor store.

With a sigh, she pushed off the wall she was leaning against and walked further into the alleyway, going deeper into the worst parts of the city – the Narrows. Her combat boots clicked along the slick pavement, echoing off the walls and reaching back to her as if to drown out the steady sounds of cars whirring by. She reached her destination, the outside door of a restaurant, and she kicked it open, stepping inside the sweltering heat of the kitchen, a slight shock to her body compared to the oncoming fall coolness of the outdoors.

The cooks turned to give her strange, curious looks. Once they saw it was her, they immediately looked away. She closed the door behind her, shedding her thick leather jacket to reveal the plain white shirt and black skinny jeans beneath. Instantly, she felt cooler and gave a curt nod to Greg. The manager of the restaurant nervously smiled at her and waved towards the swinging door leading to the seating area.

She walked through them, her entrance into this part of the restaurant not nearly as dramatic as her entry into the restaurant itself. To her right was a judge with two prostitutes hanging off of him like slime, and she sneered, looking away. Crooked judges left a bad taste in her mouth. They were supposed to uphold the law. Not descend in to the criminal's lives that they were supposed to be going against. Three police officers were at the bar, drinking in their uniforms, blatantly breaking numerous codes of conduct they were bound by.

Jane found Falcone in the center of the line of booths on the left hand side of the restaurant, and she slid into the bench opposite him, not waiting for a greeting or a command. Her hands clasped on the table top, and she met his surprised look with a steady one she had now perfected. His forehead was glistening with sweat from the heat of the room, shiny and reflecting the light while bringing attention to his receding hair line.

"I take it you took care of him?" He asked, referring to the man he had shared a cell with in prison. The man had been willing to sell all that Falcone had – stupidly – spoken about while in incarceration. Falcone was an idiot for spilling so much, but Jane knew that her boss - while brilliant in some areas - was _clueless_ when it came to those he placed his trust into. Chill had been in jail for the murder of the _royals_ of Gotham: _the _Thomas and Martha Wayne of _Wayne Enterprises_. The death of the two socialite darlings had sent the town into an even further depression, indirectly leading to Jane being led here, in this booth, sitting across from the most important mob head in all of Gotham.

She had been all too willing to arrange for someone to put a bullet in his head.

"That's a stupid question," she glared at him. Jane couldn't handle a knife like some of the other men Falcone had at his disposal. She also wasn't as strong as a man. She could shoot a gun better than most. Blessed with a steady hand and a cool head, she could hit a target a good distance of the way perfectly. A waiter came by the table, placing a glass water in front of her and a scotch in front of him. Jane waved thanks before taking a long sip, quenching her thirst. "You told _me_ to take care of it. Not one of the oafs you call 'men.' But if you had not have let your mouth fly and words to spill out, you wouldn't have been in this position in the first place."

Falcone shrugged and tossed his shot back. "Your job isn't to inform me of my bad choices. You're just here to shoot and look pretty." He eyed her up- and-down and she lifted an eyebrow, daring him to continue on that subject further. "Well, just to _shoot_ I guess," he mumbled, setting the glass down on the table. Falcone leaned forward, shifting in the booth as he straightened his crisp suit, looking every bit as rich as he was.

In the past year that she had worked for Carmine Falcone, he had made several passes at her, attempting to bed her in all of his fifty-something year old glory and charm.. She was young, only about nineteen, and certainly attractive for someone like him. Jane had a very symmetrical face, hard jaw line, and high cheekbones. Her dark blonde hair had a wave to it and went nicely with her pale skin, bringing out the blue of her eyes. She never wore make-up, not liking the way it felt on her face and therefore eliminating most potential facial problems and giving her a smooth complexion. Jane was built like a ballerina; long body with legs that went on for miles, and a lean figure that didn't have much fat at all. Hardcore workouts, kickboxing, and training did that.

She didn't care much for her appearance and therefore didn't do anything besides run a brush through her hair and put on clothes. Looks were deceitful, and Jane knew she was successful because she appeared to be innocent, much like a child. Being a woman in her world, though, was a little dangerous. Therefore she normally hid behind baggy shirts that were as unisex as possible. If Falcone's men didn't respect her as one of them, she would never get anything done for him.

Carmine hadn't been successful at all in his attempts to woo the young girl, but he still tried which bugged her to no end. She hoped that he would somehow _get the picture _that she was not interested in the least. For one, he was far older than she. Two, he was her boss and the head of the Falcone mob family – if things went south, the whole city could be after her in a heartbeat. And third, Jane was not looking for any sexual or romantic involvement from anyone. She had seen the type of damage love did to someone when her mother left on her fifth birthday.

Falcone's head tilted to the side, eyes alight with interest as he looked behind Jane towards the door. She heard the bell ring as it opened, signifying a new customer, and as she turned she wondered who would have caught the usually calm old man's attention. Her eyes fell on a young man standing at the door, his eyes grazing across the restaurant until they landed on Falcone. He began walking forward, eyes boring straight into him as if he were the only one in the room.

Jane stood, getting in between the boy who appeared about her age – and recklessly stupid, she thought – and her boss. "You're taller than you look in the tabloids, Mr. Wayne." Falcone remarked behind her, and she felt the shock appear on her face. So _this_ was the Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham. He _was_ much taller than she imagined, standing above her at roughly six foot two. Two of Falcone's men stepped out of their booths, grabbing onto the young boy and began frisking him, checking to make sure he didn't have any weapons. Wayne blinked and looked to Jane, and she tried to warn him with her eyes – this was _not_ a place for a rich frat boy.

"What? No gun? I'm insulted!" Falcone scoffed sarcastically, and Jane stepped back to allow Wayne to take her prior spot across from Carmine. Bruce slid into the booth uneasily, watching Carmine warily. "You could have just sent a thank-you note."

"I didn't come here to thank you. I came here to show you that not everyone in Gotham's afraid of you." He said bravely. Jane had to admit – Bruce Wayne had guts, but he was a complete fucking idiot to think he could stroll in here to prove a point. Falcone was _Falcone_ after all. Not a random street thug who backed down from a smoldering glare and an expensive coat.

"Only those who know me, kid." Falcone didn't miss a beat and leaned in towards Wayne, eyeing him sinisterly. "Look around you: you'll see two councilmen, a union official, a couple of cops, and a judge." Suddenly, he pulled out a gun from the inside of his jacket, pointing it dead at Wayne's head. "Now, I wouldn't have a second's hesitation of blowing your head off right here and right now in front of 'em. Now, _that's _power you can't buy! That's the power of _fear_."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Because you think you got nothing to lose. But you haven't thought it through. You haven't thought about your lady-friend down at the D. A.'s office. You haven't thought about your old butler. _Bang!_" Bruce jumped as Falcone pulled the trigger, but the chamber was empty. Dead, heavy silence fell across the room and Falcone put the gun away back into his jacket.

"People from your world have so _much _to lose." He shook his head with disgust. "Now, you think because your mommy and your daddy got shot, you know about the ugly side of life, but you don't. You've never tasted desperate. You're, uh, you're _Bruce Wayne_, the Prince of Gotham. You'd have to go a thousand miles to meet someone who didn't know you're name. So don't-don't come down in here with your anger, trying to prove something to yourself. This is a world you'll never understand. And you always fear what you don't understand. Alright?" Falcone looked to his men and nodded his head. They instantly latched onto Bruce, roughly pulling him out of the booth. Bruce struggled against them, trying to shake their grip as one man held his across the shoulders and another stood in front of him.

A gut-wrenching punch flew into Bruce's stomach, then another, and another. He coughed haggardly, groaning a little as Falcone and Jane watched – Jane feeling a little unsettled. "Get him out of here." He said and the guards began to drag him towards the back door when Falcone reached and grabbed Bruce's arm.

"Yeah, you got spirit, kid. I'll give you that. More than your old man, anyway." Jane could see Bruce stiffening at the mention of his father. "In the joint, Chill told me about the night he killed your parents. He said your father begged for mercy. _Begged_. Like a dog." Jane's eyes stayed on Bruce as Falcone's hand dropped and she felt a weird stab of sympathy for him. Even for her, Falcone had gone too far on that last quip.

Wayne disappeared though the swinging doors. Jane turned back to Falcone and was about to launch into a reprimand she would probably regret later when he sighed. "Take care of him." Jane's eyes turned icy cold – he wanted her to kill Wayne? _Why_ did he have to come in here to act all heroic? With a firm nod of her head, she turned on her heel and put her jacket back on, feeling the stairs of all of the _proud _and great citizens of Gotham. _Hypocrites_. They preached for better streets, donated to charities, and yet here they were – on Falcone's payroll, about to witness the death of Bruce Wayne.

The cold air hit her immediately, and she grimaced as she stepped from the kitchen and onto the alley. Her eyes combed the area, not seeing any visible signs of Wayne before she began walking further into it, heading towards the area under the bridge where a lot of homeless people were. She found his crouched, sitting figure next to a dumpster right before the area opened and stopped in front of him.

His eyes lifted to meet hers, full of sadness and regret and it nearly tore her heart out. She knew that face, saw it every time her memory filled with visions of her father. His eyes shifted from sad to vacant and she reached her hand out. Bruce eyed it warily for a moment and she kept her face void of emotions when he grasped it and she helped him up.

"Falcone told me to _take care of you_," she said flatly. In the dim shadows of the alley, she couldn't really make out his facial features, but she could see the lifting of his chin, the tightening of his jaw as he sensed a challenge. "You know what that means? It means he wants me to kill you. Make you disappear. You're a fucking idiot, you know that? You can't just prance around down here and not expect something like this to happen."

"I don't have to justify my actions to you."

"You're right. You don't. But that doesn't make you any less of a fuckhead." She ran her fingers through her hair as she looked around. For some reason, something inside her was screaming at her not to kill him. Maybe it was because she sort of knew how he felt – having lost a father and mother herself though it was under different circumstances. That look he had when she first came down here…it tugged at her heart because it was so damn familiar. No, she wouldn't kill him. It wouldn't be right. Bruce hadn't done anything to harm anyone else. Stupidity wasn't a foolproof reason to shoot someone.

"So, are you going to kill me?" He asked harshly, sneering. "Take care of me? If so, then go ahead and do it. Don't just stand here and waste my time." Eyes flashing, she slapped him across the face and sent a hard kick into his stomach. Bruce flew into the wall, eyes bugging in shock at her strength.

"Listen. I don't take it well when people that I'm trying to _help_ give me reasons to kill them." Jane hissed, grabbing onto his jacket and hauling him off the wall before yanking him around and pushing him onto the ground. She stood over him, crossing her arms over her chest. She was younger than him, and here he was, acting like a child. "You need a slice of humble pie, kid. Not only are you a complete asshole, but you think _much_ too highly of yourself. I don't give a damn if you are Bruce Wayne and that you have tons of rich friends and stuff. _I'm _the one with the power here; _I'm _the one that holds your life in my hands. Take that nasty attitude of yours and shove it up your ass."

Bruce stood slowly, holding his hands in surrender. He straightened and brushed his hands over his clothes to get off the dust and grime. "I saw you at the trial today," she spoke calmly, crossing her arms over her chest. "You had a gun." He froze, eyes snapping to hers. "You were going to kill him, weren't you? Not that I blame you. I killed the man who killed my father. But let me tell you this, Wayne – it doesn't change anything. It really doesn't." She held his gaze for a beat, softening. "Revenge is never the answer."

The fire the homeless were crowded around grew, illuminating one side of Wayne's faces. In a way, he appeared every bit the same as he did in tabloids and magazines; angular face, cheekbones sharp enough to cut, warm light brown eyes. A classic All-American with the neat brown hair and slim body in rich clothes. But…something about him was haunting. A loneliness deep inside that fought its' way to appear in his eyes.

"You can't stay in Gotham. If you do, Falcone will be after both of our heads." She informed him, taking a business-like tone with her voice she often used with Carmine. "Stay out of the press and try to move out of the state, or better yet, even the country. If Falcone finds out you're alive, he'll come for you and your friends and family. Like he said, your girlfriend and butler will be _dead_. I'm sure you have the resources to get out so it shouldn't be too hard. Good luck, Mr. Wayne." Jane turned on her heel and began walking back to the restaurant.

"Wait!" Bruce called after her and she stopped, looking over her shoulder to where he stood. "Why are you helping me?" His voice contained traces of curiosity as well as a faint bit of distrust and she smiled a little. Maybe there was hope for Wayne yet.

"Because I know how you feel." She replied, turning fully now to face him. "I arranged for Chill to be shot under Falcone's orders, robbing you of your chance to get the revenge that you seek. No matter how I view it, an act like that should be up to someone else. Someone who has something to gain from it. Truth be told, I feel a little guilty for stealing that life from you." She gave him a sad smile. "And, I like your coat. Don't be dumb and remember what I said. You may just survive this world if you do." With a small nod, she went back to the restaurant and was once again immersed in the warmth of the kitchen.

When she slid back into the booth, she gave Falcone a curt nod, shrugging off her jacket again and soothing back her hair. Carmine looked pleased, pushing aside the empty shot glasses. "Everything go smoothly?" She gave him another look, similar to that of one she gave him when he asked about Chill and he smiled. "Good, good. I still don't know why I ask."

"I don't either."

* * *

Jane's hands dug into her pocket. She scanned the area behind her, making sure she wasn't being followed before she reached up and knocked on the door of the house in front of her. It opened, cautiously, until the owner realized who it was. Jim Gordon's face appeared and he gave her an odd look. "Can I help you?" He asked, putting on his glasses so he could see her better.

She reached up, pulling back her hood and allowing him to see her face. Immediately, he stepped to the side, allowing her to walk in. As she stood in the hallway, Gordon peered back outside for anyone before closing it firmly, dead bolting it. Shrugging off her coat, she draped it over her arm and began to walk to the living room. Barbara must have already been asleep, as well as their young child. The television in the quaint living area was on, volume turned so low that she could barely hear it. Sitting in a loveseat, she waited for Gordon to come back in.

"Well," he rubbed his hands together, looking slightly uncomfortable. "This is unexpected. Do you want some coffee? I think we have some tea too."

"No, thank you. I'm not here for a social visit."

"Of course." He smiled a little, but it faltered off. Moving around the floral pattered sofa, he sat, looking at her nervously. He must have thought she came to kill him or something, offer bad news. Jane knew that even though the two had been working for about six months, he still didn't trust her. That should have bothered her, and probably would have if something had been different. She was already betraying the trust of Falcone – why not the Sergeant Gordon? But, he didn't have much of a choice. She was the department's only chance at _ever_ catching up with Falcone.

"A shipment of cocaine is coming in three weeks from now. It will be dropped off at the bay and will sit overnight before Falcone will get it. They've already bought off everyone, so you can't rely on any of the officials to check up on it or anything."

"Do you know the crate number or anything…?"

"Number 177359. It will be on the _Atlantic_ which will arrive at the bay around two in the morning. I don't think it's a big shipment, but it's a shipment. Take what you can get, right?" She laughed slightly without humor and sat up in the seat. "This time – make sure you have the proper amount of cause to search through the crate to begin with. My cover was nearly blown last time and I'm still surprised Falcone hasn't figured out that it's me."

"I know, and I'm terribly sorry about that," he apologized sincerely. "Loeb wouldn't listen to me and wanted the drugs out of Falcone's hands instantly. Said that he just wasn't going to wait any longer for them." Pausing for a moment, he looked down at his hands. "He wants to meet you."

Jane scoffed. "That's not going to happen. I'm already risking both your life and mine by meeting you. I know you're not going to give my name, and I know Loeb's basically clean. His past, though, is dirty, and I'm not risking anything."

"I understand, but maybe thing will run smoothly if he could hear all of this firsthand from you. He's a little adamant that he knows my source and I don't know how long it'll be until he just gets totally pissed and tears apart the deal we made."

"He better not. I'll come after his throat." She snarled, earning a surprised look from Gordon. "I'm risking way too much for this just for him to throw it away as if it's _nothing_. I can pull out right now and you all would be completely lost and _fucked_. Tell him he needs to take me seriously because I don't have to do this." With a huff, she collapsed and rubbed her face, trying to calm down. "Oh, and another thing – why is James still around? I told you the guy was on Falcone's payroll and he's _still_ on your special squad thing."

"Loeb couldn't find the grounds to dismiss him. He would have started asking questions, ones we can't outright answer. But we're keeping a sharp eye on him and haven't told him anything confidential."

"Give him false information and let him relay it to Falcone. Bait them both. You won't catch Falcone, but you'll have means to get rid of James. There's a new guy working in Internal Affairs – Dent…Harley? No, _Harvey _Dent. Falcone's already offered to buy him off, but he won't budge. I don't know how long he'll last untouched, but right now he's trustworthy. If that changes, I'll let you know." She stood and pulled her jacket back on, lifting the hood. "Nice working with you, Gordon. As usual."

Gordon hurriedly followed, opening the door as she slid out and left the home, concealed in the darkness so that even he couldn't see her.


	2. Chapter 2

_****_**A/N: I wasn't planning on posting this today, but I figured 'what the hell.' I'm probably going to post every other day from here on out. BUT, if everyone who has followed this story leaves a review for this chapter, I might post one early... just saying... reviews make me SMILE. We like smiling, don't we?**

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**Review Question: Out of ALL the Batman movies (not just Nolanverse), which actor portrays BRUCE WAYNE the best? **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my characters. **

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_**Seven Years Later**_

"I my opinion, Mr. Zsaz is as much a danger to himself as to others," Dr. Jonathon Crane spoke, leaning forward to speak into the microphone on the stand as he addressed the nearly empty courtroom. "And prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation." The assistant district attorney's – a young woman by the name of Rachel Dawes – jaw set hard, teeth visibly gritting, as she gave the doctor a hard look.

_She suspects_, Jane thought to herself stupidly. Of course she suspected. Falcone hadn't been very subtle manipulating Crane into having his men declared insane. Rachel was not an idiot, and Jane admired her for that. On multiple occasions, she had watched the woman work her magic in the courtroom, coming to like the tough, skirt-and-blazer lawyer. Too bad she was really pissing Falcone off. She was too headstrong, walking right towards the line of fire which would ultimately destroy her. A few more tests of Falcone's temper and the woman might very well be found at the bottom of a river or in a dumpster.

Jane knew that at some point she would have to speak to Dawes. It made her a tad uncomfortable seeing someone who was actually trying to do some good in Gotham getting held back by corrupt bureaucrats. That's what happened, though. When one tried to play the law game in a town like Gotham shit happened. Jane, on the other hand, knew the limitations the courts held, and chose to stay far away from them. Over the past few years she had worked with Gordon, giving him hints and tips of Falcone's more sinister plans as well as reporting back several bought off cops and judges to avoid.

She still, however, refused to stand trial. With her knowledge and testimony, Falcone _would_ be put behind bars. Jane knew that. And so did Gordon. Still, going to trial against any of Falcone's men would be like walking up to an executioner. Her life would be in vain, and if she was going to die, she wanted something to come about it other than a little bit of blood and a funeral no one would come to.

Gordon was still the only one who knew of Jane's involvement with the cops. Loeb knew to an extent, but was still as clueless about her identity as everyone else was. She liked it that way, and it made her feel a little safer. The things she had said over the years would get her in deep shit with Falcone and the less people that knew, the better.

The case was dismissed; Zsaz – a well-known rapist member of Falcone's men – was declared insane and placed under the care of Dr. Jonathon Crane. Crane currently operated Arkham Asylum, which now housed a lot of truly criminally insane men as well as quite a number of mob men. Falcone's men or not, something fishy was going on with Crane and she didn't trust the man at all. For some reason though, Carmine was practically his lap dog which puzzled her. Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Something big was being planned, but Falcone wasn't telling her _anything_. In one way or another, it involved Crane, which made her nervous as fuck. She hated psychiatrists or psychologist- _whatever_ the hell he was.

Jane stood from the bench and went outside, awaiting Crane so she could escort him to Carmine. Earlier, she had received a call asking for her to bring him, leading her to be in the courthouse in her nice black dress and heels. Running her fingers through her hair, she waited rather impatiently until she saw the long, lean suit-clad figure of Crane heading towards her, briefcase in hand and glasses hiding those creepy, piercing blue eyes.

Behind him, Rachel was hurriedly trying to catch up with him, her ponytail bouncing as her face looked hard and angry. With a roll of her eyes, Jane walked over to Crane, and as she neared them, she heard Rachel's unmistakably harsh tone.

"Crane," she called out, causing the young doctor to turn around reflexively. Jane watched as his shoulders slouched a little in annoyance at the pesky attorney, yet he stayed still regardless.

"Ah, Miss Dawes," he said softly, turning back to continue walking. His eyes landed on Jane's approaching figure and he gave her an acknowledged nod, which she returned. Perhaps she should get over there quickly before Rachel said something stupid and got herself killed…

"You really think a man who butchers people for the mob doesn't belong in jail?" Her voice was a little condescending, and Jane stopped as she reached Crane's side, eyeing the woman in a warning. Yet Rachel didn't even look at her, the steely glare focused on Crane and Crane alone.

"Apparently," Crane rolled his eyes and slowed to a stop. "I wouldn't have testified if I had felt otherwise, now would I Miss Dawes?" He turned to face the attorney, anger giving his voice an edge as he returned Rachel's glare.

"This is the third of Carmine Falcone's thugs you've declared insane and moved into your asylum." _Oh shit_, Jane thought, _here we go_.

"Work offered by the organized crime must have an attraction to the insane, Miss Dawes." Jane interjected, finally earning a glance from Rachel who quickly gave her an up-and-down. She tried to place the warning in her eyes, shifting them to the door, but obviously it was ignored as Rachel turned immediately back to Crane, who was nodding in agreement.

Jane placed a hand on Crane's arm, steering him away and making it look as if the two were a couple. The two were walking towards the door and Jane let out a sigh of relief that Rachel hadn't said anything further. Behind her, she heard the faint sound of heels clicking and nearly groaned. Didn't the woman _learn_? Did she seriously not know when to just shut up?

"Or the corrupt." Rachel said. Jane closed her eyes. _Damn. _That was it – she signed her death warrant. Crane immediately stopped, and underneath the suit, Jane could feel the muscles in his forearm tensing, clenching and unclenching his grip on the handle of his briefcase.

Crane let out a stream of air through his nose, taking in a deep calming breath as Jane immediately combed the courtroom lobby for someone that would get Rachel _out._ Her eyes landed on the district attorney, a man who Rachel trusted, and someone who hadn't been bought off – surprisingly. "Mr. Finch," Jane said, masking her voice in slight arrogance. The lawyer turned, eyes squinting as they took in Crane and Rachel, already nothing the scene that was taking place. "I think you should check with Ms. Dawes about the implications your office is authorized to make…if any."

Then, she practically dragged Crane away from Rachel. She could hear the sounds of Rachel's voice mixed with Finch's, and sighed in sweet relief as she and Crane finally made it out of the lobby without anything else being said. Rachel was already in deep shit, and Jane had to find a way to warn Gordon to get to her. After what had just happened, Rachel probably wouldn't give Jane the time of day, and rightfully so. She probably thought Jane worked with Crane.

One of Falcone's limos was awaiting them, the door opened by the drive, and Jane slid in first. She sat across from the bench, her back to the driver's cab and she crossed her long legs, pulling at the hem of her dress a little. Crane crouched down and entered the limo, already knowing by the way Jane had grappled him that he was to go with her.

Crane tilted his head from side to side, looking at Jane rather curiously. "I expect Mr. Falcone would like to speak to me? I'm sure you wouldn't have been so adamant that I come with you in any other case."

Jane nodded, and then reached underneath the seat to pull out a duffle bag. "Yes, he contacted me earlier and demanded that I bring you to him as soon as the trial was over," she unzipped it and brought out a pair of dark wash jeans. Unfolding them, she stretched long ways and began tugging them on, moving her dress up a little but still retaining decency as she buttoned it. Looking back to Crane, she saw he was looking at her as if she had sprouted two heads. "Sorry. The dress is uncomfortable."

She reached around and unzipped the back. Crane cleared his throat and looked away as the top fell down, exposing her pale skin and black bra. She wasn't fazed by being in just a bra in front of him – he was a doctor of mental patients, surely he had seen far more than this. Though she wouldn't have done it in front of some of Falcone's men, she figured Crane was probably not a rapist.

Appreciating the small sense of privacy, she had to admit it made her a bit more comfortable that he wasn't oogling her like Zsaz or someone else would. She pulled on a white tank top then her leather jacket. Kicking off the heels, she slid on some socks and her Doc Martens. Instantly, she felt more comfortable, and shoved her prior outfit into the duffle bag, zipping it back up and tossing it to the side.

"I'm sure it has something to do with your…engagements." She shrugged and fluffed her hair a little before tying it back out of her face. Crane turned to look at her, eyeing her incredulously and she realized he must have been surprised by something.

"You mean he hasn't told you?" He asked, to which she shook her head. "Odd. He seems to tell you everything else. Quite honestly, I thought the two of you related when I first came into contact with Mr. Falcone. Whether it was by blood or of a sexual nature, you two seem bonded by something that was not friendship."

Jane shook her head again and re-crossed her legs. "Falcone is merely my boss, Dr. Crane, and a boss only. What he chooses to tell me is of his own accord and I'm only here to fulfill a job, not to engage in physical or emotional ties with him."

"Purely a professional, I see. That is something to be admired." He took off the glasses and she was once again unsettled by the complete look of his face. High cheekbones, full lips, and a feminine jawline. He was an attractive young man, if one went for his intellectual, timeless look, but Jane found him slightly…strange. Deep down, her instincts were screaming at her that something was terribly wrong with this man. Like any other person in her position, she trusted her instincts with her life; she had to. They had never failed her before.

She hid her true feelings for the man behind a wall of indifference. Crane was a crafty man, a smart man. He could probably read her like a book if she let her guard down for an instant. So, she kept her body language loose, relaxed, and calm; her eyes void of anything of interest.

They rode on in silence before the limo slowed to a stop in front of the restaurant that Falcone still used as his head of headquarters. She didn't mind – the food was actually pretty damn good.

Crane slid out first, Jane following after him. He stepped to the side, holding his arm forward, signaling her to go first like something from an old-fashioned movie. Jane started forward, opening the door and confidentially walking through the restaurant as all heads turned to eye her and Crane. He had nothing to worry about – everyone knew that what happened in the restaurant, stayed in the restaurant. Under penalty of death by one of Falcone's men.

She rapped her knuckles against Falcone's office door, waited for a few beats, and then opened it. Carmine sat waiting at his desk, looking through some files that were opened. He looked up when the two entered the room, the door closing as Crane went for a chair. Jane was about to leave the two when Falcone jerked his head to the side and, surprised, she moved to the empty wooden chair beside him.

"Hello Mr. Falcone," Crane spoke, his voice icy cold.

"Doc," Falcone closed the files, placing them on top of each other before pushing them to the side. "I see you've become more acquainted with one of my best men. Well, _woman_, actually. I hope you don't mind that she joins us for right now."

Crane shook his head slowly. "No. I don't mind. I do, however, have something I wish to discuss with you. No more favors. Someone is sniffing around."

Falcone leaned forward and his body stiffened a bit in disbelief. "Hey, I scratch your back, you scratch mine _Doc_. I'm bringing in the shipments. The least you can do is help me out with my men a little." _Shipments?_ Jane thought, her mind going over everything Falcone had mentioned in the past week. He hadn't mentioned any shipments this week.

"We're paying you for that."

"Well maybe money isn't as interesting to me as favors." This conversation was getting stranger by the minute. Falcone hadn't done work for anyone else in _years_ – not since he had come to own half of Gotham. What was this all about? What could Crane be shipping in? She knew the Doctor was crooked, but still. Surely he couldn't be dealing drugs. Falcone wouldn't like the competition at all, and he certainly wouldn't be _helping _it.

Crane sighed, removing his glasses, folding them, and tucking them into his pocket on the front of his black suit. "I am more than aware that you are not intimidated by me, Mr. Falcone. But you know who I'm working for and when he gets here –"

"He…He's coming to Gotham?" Jane noted Falcone's tone was getting a little tight with anxiety.

"Yes he is. And when he gets here, he's not going to want to hear that you've endangered our operation just to get your _thugs _out of a little jail time." Jane watched as Falcone began to shift nervously. Whoever Crane was working with was a force to be reckoned with. If he made a tough guy like Falcone get anxious…

A moment later, Falcone asked, "Who's bothering you?" Jane knew the answer and a feeling of dread washed through her.

"There's a girl at the D. A.'s office." _Shit_. _Fuck. Shit. _

"I'll buy her off." Obviously, Falcone didn't put it together that the girl Crane was talking about and _the _Rachel Dawes were the same two people. _Dumbass_, she thought to herself and shook her head a little. Even though he was visibly rattled by Crane's words, he should have known that much.

"No. Not this one."

"Oh," Falcone nodded his head in understanding. "Oh, you mean Dawes? An idealist, huh? Well…there's an answer to that, too." With a sickening smile, he glanced over to Jane and winked. "I may let you take care of her, just like you did with Wayne all those years ago." Jane didn't miss the way Crane's eyes slid to hers as soon as Wayne's name was mentioned. "Some people in this town, always trying to _prove_ something. You remember that guy?"

"Vaguely." Jane replied flatly and shifted her look to Crane's even though it was unsettling. A twinkle appeared in his eyes, a mischievous one that told her he knew something. She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring back at him as if to dare him to say something.

"Things happen in Gotham all the time." Falcone said, turning back to the doctor.

"I don't want to know."

Chuckling, Jane looked directly at Crane, giving him a small, fake smile, "yes you do." He turned to her and gave her a vacant gaze. She saw that look in his eye when Falcone said Rachel would be taken care of, the tilted upwards of his lips, and that all-too eager expression on his face. The doctor was a strange man. One who was much too crafty and smart for Jane's liking. She didn't trust the sneaky glaze of his appearance and sooner or later she would figure out just what it was that set her off about him.

Crane left shortly afterwards, muttering something about having to do a few things at the asylum. Jane figured you had to be a little crazy yourself to work _with_ crazies all day. Crane seemed extremely absorbed by his work at the mental institution. She had heard about him a little before he started working with Falcone. She didn't know a whole lot about him – only what one of Falcone's thugs had told her one random night a little while back.

The good doctor had worked at Gotham University for a short while. Until, that is, he shot one of the students. After being fired from that job, he managed to pull a few strings and get a job as the head psychologist in the very place he should be locked up _in_ – the loony bin of Gotham. He must have had friends in very high places in order to be able to worm out of the sticky situation he had found himself in. Gotham was so fucking crooked that it wasn't even funny. If a man like Crane could go from a killer to working for the damn city, what other interesting stories did some of the higher-ups have?

It all sickened Jane. She was a criminal in most of society's eyes. She killed people, had sold drugs, and even robbed a bank before. Jane arranged for the killings multiple rival mob and gang's men, but _never _had she killed someone who was innocent. Just because she was a mob member didn't mean that she was completely heartless. Her hands were stained but with the blood of people who snuck through the system. When Falcone had taken her in, she had told him that she wouldn't – couldn't – kill someone who didn't deserve it. And for some unknown reason, he hadn't made her go against her one rule. It wasn't one that she dealt with lightly. To her, it set her apart from the other men that he dealt with. They would kill indiscriminately. She wouldn't.

"Rachel isn't that big of a problem, Falcone," she said as she crossed her arms over her chest. Looking at Falcone, she saw that he was rubbing his hand over his forehead. He only did that when he was in deep thought about something. His eyes were a bit worried, an emotion that she rarely observed in him. When she spoke he seemed startled, almost as if he had forgotten that she was in the room.

Falcone sighed, dropping his hand back onto the table where the band of his Rolex clattered against the wood. "She's more of an annoyance – one that is really working on my nerves. She needs to know that she can't go running around getting involved in things that don't need her attention, that poking her nose into _my _business is a very bad and stupid thing to do. If I don't kill her, Maroni or someone else will arrange for it anyways." He shrugged indifferently as if they weren't talking about someone's life. "Why do you say that she isn't that big of a problem? What are you? _Girlfriends_?" Snorting, Falcone stretched his arms above his head, groaning loudly as his joints popped.

"Yeah. Didn't you know? I'm secretly gay," she rolled her eyes as she spoke flatly. "She's too uptight for me anyways, Falcone. What I meant was she's nothing that's threatening. Just a little busy fly that's buzzing around. She's harmless. Not worth your attention or mine. Or even the few hundred or whatever it costs to off someone. Take my word for it, the girl doesn't have a chance when she's up against all of the people you have on your payroll."

"Crane doesn't like her."

"Fuck the doc. Who gives a shit what he thinks? He's nothing. Honestly, I don't understand what you see in that guy. Sure, he's served his purpose and got a few of your guys out of some deep shit. In my opinion, you should have let them rot in jail. They were stupid for getting caught in the first place. You know they didn't even try to cover their tracks if they were arrested in this town."

Falcone stood and Jane followed, not giving up on this. She admired Rachel, much like she did Gordon. In fact, the young woman reminded her a lot of him. Rachel was one untouchable who might very well be the only one to stand against Falcone when his time came. If Rachel went down then there wouldn't be a defense attorney brave enough to stand against the mob man or any mob men for that matter.

"The doctor and I have an arrangement. He works for someone very important, someone very dangerous. It would be good to not piss him off too much. If that means that we have to get our hands a little dirtier then so be it." Falcone said as he walked through the relationship, Jane following him like a little dog.

"And you're not dangerous? Shit, you're _the_ Carmine Falcone. The unofficial _ruler_ of Gotham. You have more power than the fucking mayor, and have more resources at your disposal than any other mob head here. More men work for you than any other family within a hundred mile radius. Don't tell me you're a little scared of someone like Crane."

Falcone whirled around. His eyes glared down at Jane, and she met his with her hardening one as well. He wouldn't kill her. Often times he told her he liked it that she challenged him. She wasn't going to back down. Not when everything she had worked for over the past seven and a half years was at risk.

"This man…Crane is in good standings with him." Falcone said slowly. "He is incredibly powerful and notorious in our world. Stay out of this, Jane, or else I'll be forced to get rid of you as well."

* * *

Gordon sat in the police car. Jane was around the corner of a building, watching as Flass conversed with the cashier at the convenience store. Gordon wasn't stupid; he knew Flass was corrupted a few years ago after she had given him a tip. It wasn't a big secret on the force – Flass was a total arrogant asshole who knew he was untouchable now that he was wrapped up with Falcone. Bitterly, Jane thought about how Gordon was one of the few cops that hadn't been swayed by a few wads of cash and empty threats.

It was slightly drizzling outside, creating more of a dreary feeling in the Narrows. A lot of cops didn't travel down in the bad parts of town. Gordon's presence wasn't going to wind up doing much with his partner being corrupt and all. But might as well try, right? Jane had to admire Gordon tenacity. He was fighting a losing battle but still didn't give up.

Jane walked up to the door of the cop car, knocking on it, and Gordon jumped as he reached for his gun automatically. Jane stood in the rain, waiting patiently for him to unlock the door, which he did. Opening it, she practically jumped into the passenger seat, turning the vents that were spewing out hot air towards her. She removed the hood, her hair frizzed and soaking wet from being out in the rain. Her all-black clothing stuck to her, soaking and dripping wet, almost like a cat.

She turned to look over her shoulder at Flass still in the store. "That guy in there sells drugs for Maroni." Jane remarked, looking back to Gordon. "If Falcone were to find out he's buying from someone else, he's going to be _pissed_." He nodded as if he understood even though they both knew he didn't and she smiled. He was a nice guy, a good man. One didn't find a lot of those in Gotham anymore.

"I need to know what you have on Dr. Jonathan Crane," she said. "Earlier today, he met with Falcone and they were talking about shipment coming in. I don't know when, no one mentioned a date or anything. Should be soon, though."

"I thought Falcone rarely worked with outsiders? Why would he help Crane, of all people?"

Jane shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, just as confused as he was. "I don't know. I've been thinking about ever since they spoke, but I can't really come to a conclusion. I do know, however, that Crane isn't working solely with Falcone."

"Another mob dealer or something?"

"No – an outsider." Jim's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Exactly. Whoever he is must be pretty dangerous. Crane mentioned him coming to Gotham and Falcone was nearly shaking. If Falcone's scared of him, he must be a big deal. I'll keep trying to listen out for any more clues, but I'm not for sure if he'll let it slip. I just learned about this whole thing recently even though the two have been working together for a few months. Keep a sharp eye out for Crane. I don't trust him one bit."

Gordon nodded in agreement and she moved to get out when she stopped. "Oh, and keep Rachel Dawes at the D.A.'s office close by. She's one of the few untouched in this city and she's pissed off both Crane and Falcone. They know she isn't going to take any payments, and Falcone said he was going to take care of her for Crane. Tell her to keep a low head or else she won't have one for long."

She pulled the hood up as she opened the door and sloshed her way through the rain, not making eye-contact with Flass when she bypassed him. Flass turned to watch her ass as she went until disappearing, she turned a corner, and he continued on to the car. His beefy body filled the seat and he handed Gordon a drink.

"Getting some ass, huh?" He asked wickedly, turning back to see if he could spot the strange girl again. "Never took you for the type that would deal with prostitutes. Gotta say that I'm proud. She had killer legs."

Gordon sighed, unscrewing the cap. "Yeah, she's a killer."

* * *

When she finished talking with Gordon, Jane hailed a cab and went to the gym. At this time of night not many people went to it. Jane liked working out when there was no one else around. Something about other people watching as she did her stuff made her a little nervous and skittish. The quiet was also nice too. No one blaring any rambunctious, annoying pop songs in an attempt to motivate themselves to lose a few pounds. No sounds of men hitting on women or trying to show off by picking heavy weights up only to put them down. No incessant chatter of gossip and squealing when someone revealed something doubly delicious.

The Narrows didn't have the luxury of having a decent gym. The only thing close enough to serve as one housed fighting tournaments for gang members and people trying to earn a few bucks. Jane had visited it one time and hadn't been impressed with the outdated equipment, the smell of musk, the blood stains on the concrete floor, and the ultra-dim lighting. Everything there was vandalized, pathetic gang graffiti marking their 'territory' like little dogs. Jane despised gangs. They thought they were so tough and powerful. How wrong they were.

Finding that one lacking in the proper things that she needed, Jane had searched uptown in the city for one instead. She had to fork over a decently sized check to pay for the usage, but it didn't bother her too badly. The investment was well worth the reward. After she unlocked the door, she flipped on a few lights and drew the shades closed. She shed her soaked hoodie and changed into dry gym shorts and a wife beater. Lightweight tennis shoes replaced her boots and she shoved everything into a locker after wrapping her wrists and knuckles with medical tape.

Jane had a lot of steam to burn off. Working out helped clear her head of any troublesome things. That part was one of the main reasons she loved exercising so much. Something about pushing her body to its' limits relaxed her more than any sleep or drink could. Years of being pissed off by Gotham had fueled all of her workouts, and tonight was no different. When she was kickboxing, it was Crane's head she was imagining punching and kicking. Something about him was just so fucking creepy that it infuriated her to no end. When she ran on the treadmill, she was running over Flass.

Jane had thought about moving off and starting a new life elsewhere. Possibly Metropolis. It was the Golden City of the world and the crime rate was _nothing _when compared to Gotham. Most of the people there had a great life. Good income, uncrooked politicians, a great police force, and the average income was sky high. She bet no one had to worry about getting killed on the way back from work for a few dollars. Jane knew that she would be bored with the safe life though. She just wasn't cut out for it. Now that she had lived in Gotham for so long, she was sadly used to the things that made it terrible. Didn't make it even less of a depravity, nor did it lessen the fact that Gotham was indeed a fucked up city to live in. But after a while…you just became used to it. Expected it. Anything more would be strange and alienesque. Jane couldn't even imagine walking somewhere without a weapon concealed on her person or without having to look over her shoulder every now and then.

Once she was all good and sweaty, Jane turned off the gym lights and locked the door on her way out. She rode a cab to her tiny apartment in the outer circle of the Narrows. She was rather close to the bridge that lead to the mainland, but still pretty far into the crime ridden part of Gotham. Cops rarely patrolled it and only a few cab drivers ventured into it. It was that kind of place. Prostitutes on every street corner, small and dingy hotels that charged a scant thirty dollars for a night's stay, groups of gang members walking with their dumb swagger, drugs passing through hands in plain sight of everyone. Not a place one just chose to live in. The Narrows was somewhere you went if you were either a criminal – like her – or just too damn broke to afford the expensive fares of the inner city apartments. In other cities, the worst parts could more than likely be found around the middle area. Gotham's bad parts were on the outside, centering on the tiny little space connected by to the mainland by a bridge.

Jane's apartment was on the second floor of a small complex. It was actually one of the nicer ones even though it wouldn't hold a candle to spaces elsewhere. The apartment was small, one bedroom and one bath with a mediums-sized center open space serving as the kitchen, living room, and dining room. She didn't fix it up a whole lot. The walls were a faded blue that was there when she moved in, floors scuffed-up wood that she couldn't name. A plaid couch was in one corner, a secondhand coffee table in front of it with a few newspapers on top. A small television sat on a stand on the opposite wall. She got basic cable sometimes when the signal was good.

Her kitchen was small. A little bit of counter space, basic stove, refrigerator that rarely held more than boxes of takeout food, a nice coffee maker, and a microwave. The dining table housed four chairs and whatever jacket she took off when she came into the door. A door to the left next to the couch led to the bedroom. It was small, enough room to hold a double-sized bed and a dresser with a mirror attached. The room hadn't come with a closet, so she had bought a small wardrobe and managed to squeeze it into the space between the dresser and far wall. The bathroom was to the right and was just a simple, basic bathroom. Tiled floor, same blue walls, a sink, bathtub, and toilet.

It wasn't anything fancy. But it was home.

Jane threw off her clothes and pulled on sweatpants and an oversized tee shirt. She collapsed on the couch, flicking through television channels until she settled on an old sitcom from the eighties. Sometime during the night, she fell asleep on the couch and didn't move until ten o'clock the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to those who have followed/favorited and ESPECIALLY those who reviews. You make my day. For real yo. So leave a comment :)**

**Review Question: Who is your favorite villain from the Nolanverse Batman?**

* * *

When she finally woke up, Jane's stomach grumbled angrily at her. She rolled off of the couch, landing on the floor with a loud _thunk_. Groaning from the rude awakening, she laid her forehead down on the wood floor and just laid there for a bit. Graceful she was. _Fuck_ that shit hurt. Now she had a fuming headache. Her stomach growled again and Jane sighed. Did she even have any breakfast food? Well there was only one way to find out. Pushing herself up off the ground, she rubbed at her forehead as she stumbled over to the kitchen. She opened the door to the refrigerator, staring at it as if to _will_ food to be there.

Damn. Nothing but Chinese takeout. Not really feeling the desire for noodles for breakfast, she closed the fridge door. She was going to have to go out to get food. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._ She just wanted to stay inside for the day. Was that possible? Just to stay indoors and sleep the day away? It was too damn cold outside to just prance around for bagels and coffee. Jane looked at the couch and blanket with longing, almost prepared to forget about her hunger and do just that. Answered with a rumbling, she threw her hands up in defeat.

She dressed quickly, not giving a damn about how she looked. She was just going a few blocks down to that little grocery store for some cereal and milk. That would hold her off for a little while. Tugging on a pair of tennis shoes, she grabbed a hoodie and pulled it over her head, raising the hood to cover her ears. She hadn't been lying when she said it was cold outside.

It didn't take her long to hurry down the street. The Narrows were a little busier with the better of its inhabitants in the morning, but they all still walked with heads down and quick steps. The familiar weight of a gun in the pocket of her pants, Jane marched down the streets and made her way to the small corner store. When she went inside, she let the hood down and ran her hand over her ponytail absentmindedly, heading straight to the small selection of cereal that they had. Grabbing a large box, some milk, and a bag of chips, she went up to the counter and paid for it.

On the way home, she opened the box of cereal and began eating it, too hungry to do anything different. Besides, who the fuck cared if she ate the cereal in public? Wasn't like it was drugs or anything. Come to think of it, no one would bat an eye if it were drugs in the first place. It was a common sight in this part. A car sped by on the streets, coating her in street water. Jane's mouth dropped open as the water chilled her to the bone, soaking her clothes.

"Fuck you, pal!" She screamed at the vehicle, shooting the driver the bird. It disappeared around the corner, and she muttered to herself as she checked to make sure her cereal was still okay. Thankfully, it was still fine. Good thing for the driver. If he had ruined her breakfast there would have been hell to pay. Why were people in Gotham so fucking rude?

Jane dug in her pockets for her keys as she came up to her door. She stuck the key through the lock of her apartment door when something caught her eye…a newspaper. Curious, she opened her door, pulled out the keys, and bent down to pick it up. In huge, eye-catching letters at the top it read: **WAYNE HEIR NOT DEAD! **A picture of Bruce in a suit entering a black town car covered the rest of the space, and she felt her body tighten and freeze as she blinked. She read over the line again to make sure she hadn't misread it. Nope. It was there in black and white. Bruce Wayne was back.

The paper fell from her fingers, landing on the floor as the sheets spewed from it. _No_. Fuck, what had she told him when he left seven years ago? _Don't come back_. Swiftly, she looked over her shoulder and hurried inside, slamming the door and dead-bolting it. Falcone was going to be out for her now. At any moment one of his men would be at her door, waiting to escort her to see him. Jane had told him years ago that Bruce was dead, and now he suddenly appeared on the cover of a newspaper? Her cereal and other groceries were dropped onto the dining room table, her hunger completely forgotten about now that she had something much bigger to worry about. Like her fucking _life._

What was she going to do? She couldn't deny it – Bruce was on the cover of probably every fucking newspaper within a hundred miles. And, more than likely, mentioned on numerous websites and magazines across the United States. Nervously, she forced herself to take in a deep breath that did nothing to calm her frazzled nerves. As she pushed her fingers through her hair, she realized she needed to change into something else before she met with Falcone.

Running, she pulled off her soggy wet clothes as she went, throwing them in a ball in the corner of her bedroom. She frantically pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans and a loose plaid shirt with a tank top underneath. Dry socks and her combat boots came on next and she threw her hair into a loose ponytail. Racing back towards the door, she opened it and took the newspaper pages, crumbling them into a ball as she looked around in a paranoid fashion.

Back in her apartment, she ripped the newspapers and flushed them down the toilet, eliminating any evidence that might indicate she knew he was back. Then, she combed through her weapons drawer. She slipped a few knives into her boots, one in her underwear, and two in the tank top. Jane didn't have a clue what Falcone would say or do, but if it came to blows she needed something to help her. She lifted her shirt, careful not to disturb her knives, and grabbed her mid-chest holster, strapping it and velcroing it to her. Sticking a fully loaded gun there, she turned multiple ways in the mirror to make sure none of it was visible. The gun was her best weapon, but a knife was better in close combat.

Jane checked her phone and saw she had no calls from Falcone. That could be a good thing or a bad thing. Good: he didn't know yet and she may have time to get out of town. Bad: he was already having people sent over to grab her. Her mind reeled, and she almost called Gordon to tell him what was going on when a knock sounded on her door.

Her heart stopped. Hands shaking, she put the phone down and slowly went to the door. Just before she got there, she pulled the boots off and placed them quietly in a corner, ruffling her ponytail a bit, and rubbing her eyes so she looked as if she had been asleep. She had to look as natural as possible.

Peering through the peephole, she saw two of Falcone's bodyguards at the door. Swearing, she laid her head against it as she tried to control her nerves. Rarely did she get like this – Jane prided herself on being cold and hard, a steely, impenetrable exterior. Right now she was scared out of her damn mind though. She feared death, nonexistence, and certainly didn't want to die now. Perhaps this was karmic justice for all the criminals she had killed in her life.

She shook her nerves out and opened the door, arranging a look of annoyance and tiredness as her eyes scanned the two men. "Yeah?" She asked sleepily, yawning. Leaning heavily against the door, she drooped her eyes a little. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

"Falcone wants to see you," one unrecognizable thug said, "now." His tone was commanding, powerful to go along with the thick bands of muscle underneath his t-shirt and shaggy overcoat. The other thug was more rat-like in appearance, looking very much like a meth addict more than a guard. With a slow nod, she grabbed her boots and pulled them on, watching the two men out of the corner of her eye. She could take them down now, but doing so would no doubt prove her guilt to Falcone. He had thugs everywhere, and she wouldn't last very long in the city if she made a break for it now. Besides, Falcone may not believe that she just _let_ Bruce go. The idea itself was certainly laughable, and Jane wouldn't believe it if _she_ hadn't been the one to do it.

Tying the laces, she stood. The two men stood on either side of her as they walked out of the building and into the now-drizzle of the outdoors. A car was waiting for them, and she was sandwiched uncomfortably between the two as it drove deeper into the Narrows. They were driving towards the restaurant. _Of course. _

What was more awkward was when they reached the building; she reflexively started walking towards the door first. The big thug grasped onto her arm, yanking her back. It was then that she started to panic again. Under any other circumstance, the man wouldn't have _dared_ laid a hand on her. Jane stumbled back, and ripped her arm from his grasp, shooing him a dirty look and rubbing at the skin. He didn't have to hold her _that_ hard.

Scowling at him, she watched as he went in first, striding in like he owned the damn place. Had she look that obnoxious when she went in? She certainly hoped not. After knowing the guy only ten minutes, she already wanted to put a bullet through that thick head of his. The skinny thug nudged her back, signaling for her to follow after the big guy, so she did, feeling the gun he held pressing against her. Walking into the restaurant was hard. Everyone turned to give her glances, and she felt weird knowing that she was in the position of a hostage or something. They weren't looking at her the same as they normally did. There was…pity on their faces.

Pity. One of the emotions she hated with every damn fiber in her body. She didn't need their fucking _pity_. She needed for them to just ignore her presence – pretend that she wasn't even there. Not looking at her with those sad, dopey eyes as if they were her equals because they weren't. She was _doing _something to help Gotham, they were just sitting there stuffing their faces and ignoring the crimes that were being plotted and schemed out around them.

_Fucking cowards_, she thought to herself and rolled her shoulders back. Falcone was in the back corner booth, watching her stonily like a crazy grandfather about to berate his bad-acting grandchild. _Act like yourself,_ she screamed inwardly. Putting on an annoyed face, she slid into the seat, not giving the guards enough time to pat her down. They should have done that before they got in a fucking car with her.

"I was told you wanted to speak with me." She said, resting her chin in her hands as she put on an act. She could do it – she did it damn near everyday anyway. Falcone didn't say anything, merely reached behind him and slapped the newspaper on the table. It was the same one at her apartment, sans rips and the whole destroyed thing. Jane twirled it around so the font faced her and she summoned a confused expression. "Wayne? _Alive_? How is that possible? I left him dead on the street seven years ago!"

"I thought you did too." Falcone placed his hands on the table. "So imagine my surprise when my boys here bring me _this_." They pointed towards the newspaper and she flipped it open, searching for article about Bruce.

"Falcone, I swear…I wouldn't do something like this to you." She shook her head in disbelief and looked up at him. "I thought I left him for dead."

He gave her a long look. "Well then, why is he still alive? This makes me not trust you to do anything for me now, Jane. You know that, right? Makes me become very suspicious of you…Yeah, he's just one man. But who else have you lied to me about killing?"

"I didn't lie, Falcone!" She screamed frantically and several people in the restaurant turned to look at the two. "You have to believe me. I stuck a knife in his chest and left him bleeding there in the alley. If I can do anything to prove my loyalty to you, I will. Just tell me. This accusation that I let this _rich kid _just go is outrageous though. I wouldn't betray your trust like that. I've been working for you for nearly a decade and never have I done something to earn your doubt."

"You know as well as I do that I can't just _let you go_." Falcone sighed, "I got a mob to run. This, however, does make me nervous. A bit too nervous."

"Just tell me what I can do, Falcone."

"Kill him." He said, and Jane just looked at him. "Kill Bruce Wayne and that trust? It's all yours."

She gave a weak smile, but it faltered even as she tried to summon it onto her lips. "Come on…Come on Falcone he's-he's just a rich guy. _Another _rich playboy that's not going to do anything to harm what you've built. He's not worth my time or yours." Jane leaned back in her seat. "You know my recourses can be better used elsewhere…Perhaps, looking after Crane." This sparked his interest. _Yes_, she thought, _I got him_. "I know you don't trust him. And honestly, I don't like the guy either. He's a top priority right now, and I can easily get in there and figure out what's going on with him."

Falcone mulled this over a bit. She could see the gears working in his head, considering what she had just said. Biting her lip, she hoped that he would take her proposition and grant it. She wasn't trying to save Bruce, really – even though she more than pissed off that he came back when she specifically told him not to. However, Jane felt Bruce wouldn't have come back if it weren't for a true reason. He obviously cared about his inner circle, and never would he risk their lives like that. Even from the short conversation she had with him she had realized that.

"All right." He nodded. A breath of relief almost escaped her, but she held it in. "I'll let you watch over the Doc. But Bruce Wayne _will_ be taken care of. That, I can promise you. I don't like it that he's back, running around as if he never left. Something's just not right. Someone else will take the job though – all of your attention should be on _Crane_ and Crane alone. Do you hear me?" Jane nodded her head vigorously as he pointed a finger in her face. "Everything that goes on in that crazy house of his gets reported back to _me_."

"Of course." She said and stood from the booth. "I'll start as soon as possible." Moving to leave, she gave a smirk to the big thug. Once again, she was above him in the ranks and she wanted him to know it.

"Oh, and Jane?" Falcone called after her. She turned, meeting his hard eyes with her own. "Don't let something like _this _happen again."

* * *

Jane leapt over the hedge, rolling into a ball and flipping as she sailed high over it. Landing on her feet, she immediately ducked down, moving to put her weight on the balls of her feet as she scanned the landscape of Wayne Manor in front of her. The design was immaculate – trimmed grass, sweeping staircase flanked by flower beds and sheared bushes. A long, curving drive way circled around a large water fountain, and a car was parked directly at the end of the stairs.

The house itself was absolutely gorgeous and huge_. _A short while ago, she had examined the layout and floor plan on her laptop. After her visit with Falcone, she figured she might as well grace Bruce with a little bit of warning and threats. She hoped to bash his head against the wall and knock out his stupidity. He could have least warned her before he graced the pages of every magazine in the fucking world.

She had changed out of her plaid shirt and replaced it with her black wife-beater and leather jacket. Her belt had a few knife sheaths around it, her gun in a holster on top of the belt. An observer would consider her look badass…she saw it as practical and comfortable. And…maybe a little badass.

Wanting to scare Bruce was her first priority, which was why she went all-out with the knives and such. She wanted to show him Falcone meant _business _– and so did she. He hadn't taken her seriously enough before when she was dressed normally and such, maybe he would listen _now_. She wasn't going to harm him too much, just hopefully give him a little bit of sense. Something he so desperately lacked.

Darting across the lawn, she jumped onto a table and grasped onto the top of the first floor window ledge. Pulling herself up, Jane swung her legs sideways so that she lay horizontally on the thick molding, thankful that she placed such an emphasis on stretching and doing a bit of yoga at the gym. This felt like an awkward yoga position, centering her body and trying not to fall to either side. One arm reached up, clutching the bottom of the second-floor window for security as she raised her other hand beside it. Gritting her teeth, she yanked herself up into a standing position and peered into the window. It was obviously a bedroom, and she couldn't see anyone in it.

Bashing her fist against the glass, she broke the window a little at the bottom. The glass didn't cut into the thick leather gloves she wore, and shielded her wrist as she swept the remainder of the shards away and off the ledge. That hand snaked through the hole and clutched the inside of it. She bashed through the other side, and used the leverage to rock herself up into a squatting position, half of her body still hanging out into the air. Jane jumped forward a little, bending her knees outwards so they didn't touch the glass and lay to one side, her bum resting against the molding while her legs dangled off.

From this position, she opened the window with minimal difficulty and slid inside. Not planning on staying long, she left the window open and crept to the door. Opening it slowly, she stuck her head out and saw nothing but a dimly lit hallway. From the floor plan on the internet, she knew Wayne's room was on the third floor and in the direct center. To her right was a large staircase leading up, and she ran for it, gently racing up the steps.

The third floor was much smaller, with only three doors. She went to the center one and knelt to the closely to the wooden floor. Very slowly, she twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open just enough for her to slip through. The inside of the master bedroom was dark, a billowing curtain moving and allowing a shed of moonlight to come inside and illuminate the sleeping figure of a man.

She pushed the door closed a little and took out one of her knives. Crawling, she moved towards the man at a snail's pace, careful not to wake him up. When she reached the side of the bed he laid on, she stood. He hadn't moved at all, still stuck in a deep sleep. Jane threw her leg over his waist, straddling him and digging her knees into the crevice of his elbows, a knife went to his throat.

Bruce woke, startled and he blinked blearily until his eyes focused on the shadowy figure in front of him. He could tell it was a woman by her weight and face shape. She tilted her face downwards a little and the ends of a ponytail fell over her shoulder. The hair brushed against his chin as she hovered over him.

"So, Mr. Wayne. We meet yet again." A smirk was evident in her voice and Bruce narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"Do I know you?" He asked, his tone still a bit husky from sleep. The curtain moved as the air conditioner came on again, and the light fell on the woman's face for a moment before it once again cloaked in darkness. Bruce had seen enough of her face though, and recognized her instantly as the girl who chose not to kill him that night seven years ago when he left Gotham.

"I told you not to come back," she said, reaffirming his belief of her identity. "I specifically said Falcone _would_ be out for your blood. Not only are you risking the lives of those closest to you, but you also risked _mine_. And my friend, I am _not_ happy about that."

"You're still alive. So obviously you were wrong about that. It's been known for a day now that I've came back, so if he hasn't killed you yet he's probably not going to."

"Oh, believe me, he tried. Luckily I managed to talk him out of it. You, however, are not so lucky. He wanted me to come and kill you in order to prove myself to him."

"Is that what you're here for then? To kill me?" He laughed. "Well, I can tell you one thing: it's going to be a lot harder than it was seven years ago. I've changed a lot."

Jane knew he was telling the truth. With her body straddling his chest, she could feel the powerful muscles beneath them, much firmer and harder than they had been so many years ago. His shoulders were also broader, and he gained a lot of weight in muscle only. None of that youthful leanness was there anymore. Bruce would definitely put up a fight now.

"No," she sat back. "I'm not going to kill you. Instead, I was given another job. One a bit more worthy of my attentions."

"You sound arrogant."

Jane shrugged her shoulders. "It's not arrogant if it's true." For a moment, she was distracted by a sound down the hall and Bruce took the chance. He yanked his arms from underneath her knees, causing her to fall forward a little at the shift of weight before his hands wrapped her shoulders and he flipped them. Jane was now on her back, Bruce between her legs with his hands grabbing for her wrists and holding them on either side of her head.

Light appeared again, and he was the one who smirked now at the bewildered expression on her face. She scowled, trying to move her body away. "Not so cocky now that you're the one on the bottom, are you?"

"I came to warn you _Wayne_," she sneered. How had he managed to move so fast? "I'm not going to kill you, but Falcone wants your blood. He's sending someone else to do it. Who it is, I don't know. But you need to watch your back."

"Don't concern yourself. I will."

"And your girlfriend's? Rachel's caught the wrath of Falcone. You need to keep her safe too somehow."

"You don't seem like the type to bother yourself with the lives of others." He said and narrowed his eyes. He didn't trust her – she was a criminal, after all, working for Falcone. Even if she had saved his life and came to warn him, he couldn't bring himself to think that she did this all out of the goodness of her heart.

Anger bubbled inside Jane. "You know _nothing_ about me, so don't act like you do. Now, if you be oh so _kind_ as to get off me so I can go... I have an important date, you see, and would hate to be late." Bruce eyed her for a moment, before releasing his grip and rolling off of her. Jane sat up immediately, getting off the bed and going to the window. "Don't call the police. You can't trust any of them besides Gordon. Most of the cops in this town work for one mob or another. I don't want to see Rachel dead – and I know you don't either. If she dies, I'm holding you responsible."

Bruce watched as she opened the window and stepped onto the ledge before she grabbed onto the bottom and swung off. He went over to it, wondering if she had jumped off. Surely she wouldn't have, they were on the third story, after all. Looking out, she saw that instead of being on the ground, the woman was lowering herself to the first floor window ledge. A beat later, she jumped down, landing smoothly on her feet before taking off, disappearing into the darkness as she ran from the house.

* * *

Jane didn't know what Crane would think of her randomly showing up in her office. He was a strange man, but not one who came off as extremely violent, so it wasn't a confrontation that she feared. It was…something else. That thing that she hadn't been able to put her finger on since meeting the doctor. Falcone certainly didn't trust him; otherwise he would have never asked Jane to watch over him. Jane definitely didn't and had already made up in her mind that the man was definitely a creep.

The moment he saw her, Crane would realize that she was there to spy on him. Well, not necessarily spy as much as just follow him around and report back to Falcone. Jane didn't want to just stand in the shadows though – Crane was too smart not to realize when someone was following him. No, she needed to get up close and personal with him, literally never leave his side if she wanted to successfully gain the knowledge she wanted. Knowledge that she would share with Falcone and Gordon; leverage that might prove extremely important in the upcoming months.

She was dressed professionally in a pressed black suit. Falcone had given her a few wads of cash for her to buy clothing suitable for working at Arkham. She didn't mind dressing up - quite enjoyed the process, actually. It was like slipping into a whole different person. Jane wasn't the rough-and-rugged girl that wore combat boots and oversized shirts, but a primly proper young woman with a bright future ahead. She wondered if this was what actors felt like. With a change of clothing she had become someone else entirely to the outside world.

The front lobby of Arkham Asylum had the feeling of an abandoned, haunted hospital. Like the kind teens in movies would break into and, eventually, die in some horribly painful way. With a shake of her head, she looked to the secretary who was perched behind the sliding glass window, eyeing her expectantly and giving her a good up-and-down.

"I'm here to see Dr. Crane," Jane informed in a professional voice. Falcone had texted her earlier and told her Crane knew she was coming, but whether he agreed to it or not was lost on her. Not that it mattered, really. If she couldn't spy on him this way, then she would slink in shadows and tap his phone, bug his briefcase, and break into his house and implant cameras everywhere. Surely Crane knew she could do that, and hoped he would find her coming to him this way a bit better. It was a longshot, but most of the things she did were anyway.

The secretary nodded, gesturing for her to come through a heavy steel door on the side. Jane was buzzed through, and then escorted down a series of long, curving halls by a guard in a white jumpsuit. "New intern, eh?" He asked, his bald head nearly blinding her from the bright overhead lights.

"Yes." Jane gave him a small smile as he led her through the halls, his keys jingling by his side. All down the hallway there were doors with small windows, and when she passed by them she saw they were all filled with men and women in bright orange jumpsuits, much like what the man was wearing. They were clearly the insane people of the insane asylum.

"Don't be nervous," the guard said. "As Dr. Crane's intern, you won't have to deal with them a whole lot. Mostly you'll be answering phones and doing paperwork. That's what the last intern did, anyways. I think her name was Shannon? Didn't see much of her, she stayed in his office most of the time. She quit a little while back."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Don't really know. She never said anything. Seemed to be really skittish and shy, didn't speak a whole lot. I hope you'll be different; a lot of us are pretty close here. Seeing as how, you know, we're working most of the time anyway. Might as well be friends with the people you see most of the time and who could potentially save your life. I'm Eric, by the way."

"I'm Jane," she offered her hand, smiling genuinely this time. Eric seemed like a nice enough man. She felt a wedding ring on his finger and she wondered how his wife felt about him working constantly, as he noted. "Is anyone close to Dr. Crane? He seems like a rather quiet man…"

Eric did a loud belly-laugh, catching the attention of a janitor down one of the halls they passed. "Yeah, like someone wants to be close to Crane. I tell ya, Jane, I'm not too sure how long it'll take for you to figure out the man…well, he's a little odd. Never really speaks to anyone but the nurses and then it's strictly about patients. I don't think the man has a private life at all. Seems to always be here. Speaking of which, here we are." He took out a sheet of paper and handed it to her. "This is my number. If you ever need me or anything, don't hesitate to dial it. We are in a crazy house."

"Thanks, Eric. I'll keep that in mind." She smiled up at him, tucking the piece of paper into the front pocket of her purse.

"Sure thing kiddo. Good luck. You're going to need it working with him and all." He waved then stepped around her, going back the way they came. Jane turned to the door, reading the name plate in the center that read Crane's name and 'Head Psychiatrist.' Taking in a breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. Crane wasn't in the small little room she entered in, which held a small desk in the center and a few chairs on the wall beside the door. Behind the desk was another door, and she closed the one she just came through, heading towards the other one.

Through that door was Crane's office, the doctor sitting behind a huge desk with paperwork stacked neatly in a few piles. Bookshelves were everywhere, filled to capacity with medical journals, journals, files, and several psychiatry books. A long window looked out into the asylum's courtyard and in front of Crane's desk there were two padded chairs.

Crane looked up when she came in, adjusting his glasses before motioning for her to sit in front of him. He closed the file he was looking at, pushing it to the side of the desk. Looking up at her, he took a deep breath. "I know why you're here, Ms. Jane. Apparently, I don't have the trust of Mr. Falcone and he seeks to examine every move I make, not that I blame him. I only hope you will act as a vassal for the both of – also telling me what Mr. Falcone is up to as well."

"Sorry, Dr. Crane. You don't pay my bills, and I'm pretty secure in my job with Carmine. I plan on keeping it, as well as my head." She smiled emptily at him. "I hope that won't be a problem." Crane gave her one of those long looks he was fond of, his icy blue eyes chilling her to the core as if they created their own blizzard. "Now, about my _internship_…."

"You will do as instructed, whenever instructed. I have treated all of my interns in different fashions, depending on their strengths and weakness which I learn through a test I conduct. An interview so to speak. Seeing into the mind is a great passion of mine."

She shook her head and smirked at him. "You're not performing any tests on _me_, Crane. Sorry to disappoint, but it's not happening." Crane frowned at her, those eyes of his narrowing. "Talking over my strengths and weaknesses with a man I consider untrustworthy isn't exactly the brightest thing in the world to do."

"You consider me untrustworthy?"

"I've never had the occasion to see just how loyal you are. All I know about you is that you are the head psychologist here at Arkham and you're working with Falcone. But he doesn't trust you, so neither do I. You have to understand, doctor, I didn't survive this long by being stupid and placing my valuable trust into the hands of everyone I've come in contact with."

"All right, I can respect your wishes and won't subject you to the interview. Though if you show any signs of mental instability from working here, I will have to take the proper precautions in order to preserve your sanity. I hope you can understand that, Ms. Jane.

"Don't worry yourself; I'm pretty sound of mind."

"Regardless," Crane stood and walked towards the door, opening it, "I will take all steps to ensure that your mental strength remains intact. Here, even the strongest of minds can crumble as they deal with the effects of those who have no sanity left. If you would please, we need to make a few rounds."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: You guys are the sweetest! The reviews make me smile like a maniac. Love you guys. Huge virtual hugs to you all. **

**If you know of any other BrucexOC fics, leave them in the review. It's a pariring that I don't think gets enough focus, and it's hard to shift through some of them. So if you have one that you're really addicted to, post it so it can get some attention. I get bored between classes and am always looking for new reading material that I can get on my phone.**

**Review Question: What's your theme song? **

**I would also like to state that this fic is short. Only 16 chapters so things will be moving quickly. Once we get into The Dark Knight, I think I'll play around with the characters a bit more. You know, put them through crazy shit that'll make them hate me. :D Don't forget to add me on Facebook for edited pictures :) I love making them. Thank you to all who favorite/follow/review. **

* * *

Spending the day at Arkham had done nothing to lead Jane to uncovering anything else about Dr. Crane. All it did was just reaffirm that he was a rather strange character, but that she already knew that. He had done nothing of suspicion. No calls were made except to bring in more folders and ask about certain patients. All day he was reading up on the inmates and jotting notes while she sorted through pages upon pages of incoming faxes, organizing them due to whoever they were about. Crane was going to offer an expert opinion on the mental stability of a serial killer in a few weeks' time, and so there were numerous police reports coming in detailing the heinous crimes that made Jane curl her nose up in disgust.

"How can you even say that some of these men don't belong behind bars?" Jane had asked, turning her head from a gruesome and bloody picture of an elderly woman. Crane looked up over his glasses from his desk. "This guy deserves to get pulverized and then shoved in a hole somewhere to starve to death."

"He wasn't in his right state of mind whenever he conducted the crimes. Since he had no control over what he was doing, does that make him guilty or innocent? When he was sane he led an upstanding and normal life. After experiencing heavy trauma with the death of his daughter in a car accident, his mind could no longer take it. It turned against him, destroying itself as it proved unable to cope with the death. It destroyed itself, leading to what you see in those pictures. He never would have done it before and he didn't know what he was doing. In my eyes - and in the eyes of law - he shouldn't be held accountable for that."

"See, I don't buy that bullshit. A lot of people go through tough shit and don't end up killing people. Especially not as brutally as he did. If his mind 'destroyed itself' then how was he able to carry this horrible atrocity? This is too…organized. It was thought out and premeditated, obviously. He went straight for the kids' bedroom before the parents. By taking the children hostage, he had the parents in the palm of his hand. They wouldn't act out in fear that he would harm their kids. I don't have a fancy degree and I know that. Your whole psychology thing is shit."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Crane said, amused at her assumption of the crime.

"And according to the coroner's report, there were shallow wounds around their major arteries, but deep ones everywhere else on the parents' bodies. If he was crazed, wouldn't he just hack wherever? This is a classic torture move that I've heard a lot of mob leaders use. He was in control of this, knew just how deep to press the knife in order to prolong the life of the victim, therefore prolonging the torture. The kids, though, just had a gunshot to the head. Execution-style, angry, but they didn't go through the pain the parents had. He didn't spend near as much time with them as he did the parents."

Startled, he blinked at her. "You're right. My, my, Ms. Jane. Perhaps you should be on the other side of the law instead. I'm sure the detective unit would appreciate your judgments."

Jane snorted and put the photo down. "No thanks. I like the life I live now pretty well. Besides, I would never pass the background check. Anyone who watches _Law and Order _or _Criminal Minds _would be able to tell you what I just did anyways," she shifted through the other papers. Crane's eyes were still on her; probably trying to hack into all the sentences she said and come up with a profile of sorts. That's what he wanted, wasn't it? He was obsessed with the mind. Every moment he had was probably spent diagnosing those around him. She didn't know how someone could want to do that. Jane felt his scrutinizing eyes on her a lot – breaking down her tone and body language no matter what she was doing at the time. It was like she couldn't ask him if she could get some damn lunch without him trying to find a subliminal meaning in her actions.

When Crane left the asylum it was around nine–thirty. He told her he would be there at seven in the morning in case she was to come back, which she told him she would. Crane was her job now and her desire for sleep was the one thing that kept her from not following him to his apartment. Crane worked a lot. Jane didn't think the man had a private life of any kind. He never took personal phone calls, texted anyone on his cell phone, and his office didn't have a single picture frame in it. The man was like a ghost. A machine. Like a fucking robot. All he did was work, work, and more work. Now that she was working with him and had to keep up appearances of being an intern, she worked as well.

The night before had been far too chaotic than usual; Gordon, Falcone, and then Wayne. She considered herself lucky she didn't fall over and sleep on the office floor. He always had some sort of paperwork for her to go over, seemingly making it appear out of thin air. At least she had awesome hand muscles on her right side. Her fingers could probably lift mountains now with all the writing and note-taking she did.

Jane's apartment wasn't but a few blocks away. So she abandoned the cab that drove past and began the walk home, cutting through an alley to cut the time in half. Not seeing any shadows or picking up any signs of movement, she went down it. Her heels clicked against the concrete, but otherwise she didn't hear anything else. A cat darted out in front of her, mewling before disappearing behind a dumpster.

The sound of scraping metal echoed off the buildings and she looked up, expecting to see another cat on one of the numerous fire escapes. Seeing nothing, she shrugged it off and continued walking. Jane was a paranoid person by nature – which wasn't a bad thing in her position by any means- but she knew that a tired mind often played tricks. Never would she have suspected that basically working at an office would make her so fucking tired. How much longer was she going to have to watch Crane? If it was for too much longer she was going to burst and tell Crane to _get a life. _With a smirk, she wondered what kind of diagnosis Crane would give _that_.

Suddenly, a tall black figure landed directly in front of her. Freezing in her spot, she quickly ran her eyes up and down it; wide shoulders, thick, muscular body, clothed in all black, ski mask over his face, possibly half a foot taller than she, and obviously male. He stepped towards her quickly, moving quite gracefully for a man of his size, and she reached into her purse, pulling out a knife before tossing the bag to the side.

Either he wasn't worried about it or he didn't see it, but the knife did nothing to slow his progress as he was now directly in front of her. She stabbed the knife into his chest. Instead of feeling the softness of yielding of flesh and the warmth of blood, she was met with the jarring sensation of hitting a hard surface. The knife didn't sink in – he wore an armor of some kind. Who had the money to buy armor in Gotham?

He grabbed her wrist and quickly twisted it before winding it around her. Jane was forced to spin on her heel before he yanked her up against his body. Squirming, she tried digging her heels into his boot to no use. Like his chest, they were protected. Fucking luck.

Her knife was dropped from her hand, and he pressed her wrist up against her chest, yanking her up his body a bit. With her free arm, she wrapped it around the back of his head. Using the grip as leverage, she leaned her head forward then slammed it back. She connected with his chin which was _not_ protected by armor. Reflexively, his grip loosened and she dropped to the ground, breaking into a run down the alley. As she ran, her hands lifted the skirt until they scraped against the sheath strapped there. Still keeping pace, the gun was in her hands in an instant.

The man's hands grabbed her hands, yanking the gun away. She felt herself being sling-shotted towards the wall. Stumbling, she quickly turned so her back would hit it instead of her face and was met with the sensation of the breath being knocked out of her body. Jane gasped as she tried to suck in air. He moved towards her again and she stepped from the wall, moving so it was no longer at her back. No one put Jane up against a wall.

_This is going to be interesting_, she thought to herself with a smile. Her body and mind were tired, but the adrenaline pulsing through her alerted her enough that she was now in her proper mindset. His eyes scanned her quickly and she briefly wondered how ridiculous she looked. Hair in a mess, heels, a skirt, blouse, and blazer. She shed the blazer, tossing it to where her purse had been thrown to allow her arms freer movement. Jane could have sworn she saw him smile.

"I'm not here to hurt you," the voice that came from the mast was low, guttural, and husky. So he was obviously going through great lengths to disguise his identity. As if the mask wasn't enough, he also didn't want her to recognize his voice.

"Yeah? Well I'm going to hurt you. You've pissed me off too much already."

"You work for Falcone." Even though it was probably a question, it sounded like a statement. He obviously already knew her connections, but it didn't really strike a lot of people off of being this…guy. A lot of people knew who she worked for. No one ever really kept it on the down low in Gotham. Instead of answering, she nodded. "And Crane."

"No, not for Crane. I only work for Falcone. I'm just watching Crane right now."

The figure nodded. "Your connections with Gordon? Are you just watching him, too? How would Falcone take you visiting with the Lieutenant? I'm sure he won't be very pleased."

Jane scowled, glaring at him. Bending, she picked up the knife he had tossed away from her earlier. As she gripped the knife tighter in her hands, she rushed towards him. She slashed horizontally, almost getting him, but he leaned back, and she cut through air. Kicking him the stomach, they both fell back – he from her force and she from the rebound off his armor. Jane stumbled and almost fell. Her fingers grazed the concrete, pushing her back up in time to sidestep his punch.

Bending low, she put her hands on the ground. While balancing on her arms her leg kicked upwards, coming in contact with his groin. Her ankle screamed in pain as she found it was heavily protected. A loud curse emitted from her lips as she gritted her teeth to block out the throbbing, falling to the ground. The man chuckled, standing over her.

"What do you want?" She hissed and he held out his hand to help her up. Jane took it, struggling to stand and slipped off the heel. Damn shoe hadn't done her any use. "If you didn't come here to hurt me, then why did you? To blackmail me?"

"I want you to report all the knowledge you gain from Crane and Falcone and give it to me. Shipments, reports, all of their little plans – I want to know about them."

"You and the rest of the world," she sneered. "What makes you think I won't lie? You have nothing to give me, so what do I gain in return? Your _pleasant_ company?"

"You tell me the information; I don't let Falcone know you're spilling to Gordon. It's that simple. You gain your life, and I can be a very powerful ally."

Grimacing, she realized there was nothing she could do about the situation. She had no choice but to ally herself with the strange man or else Falcone would discover everything. That was something she couldn't talk herself out of. Showing her agreement, she nodded though the scowl didn't leave her face. She wasn't happy about it at all though. Jane knew who Gordon, Crane, and Falcone were. She didn't know this masked man. She didn't even know if he was a 'good guy' or a 'bad guy'.

"Good. When does the next shipment come in?''

"Falcone now has new drugs coming in every week. The next shipment will come in on Thursday. Half is distributed to the dealers, and the other half goes somewhere else. Before you ask no, I don't know where they go yet."

"Does Gordon know yet?"

"I haven't had the chance to tell him yet so, no. But I'd bet my life that half of those cops know about it and a few may even be down there helping to make sure everything goes right and there's no unwanted interference. Don't go to any cops except for Gordon – he's one of the few clean ones. He's untouchable."

"I'll tell him." The man gave her a curt nod. "Thank you for your cooperation." Then, he shot something into the air, propelling his body up quickly. Jane watched with wide eyes as he landed on one of the top fire escapes, crawling up the bars until he reached the top of the building and left her sight.

"Don't mention it."

* * *

A few days later, Jane was startled out of a staring contest with a chair by Eric. Jumping a little, she looked up at him curiously as he beamed down at her. "Doing all right, there? Seem a bit skittish." He said, and then frowned. "I hope this place isn't getting to you too much, or is it Crane? Don't let the creep mess with your head. He puts everyone off. Like I said, the man doesn't seem to have much of a social life and he gives off strange vibes. It's nothing personal."

"Oh no," she shook her head, her ponytail bouncing back and forth. "I can handle Crane just fine. There was something else I was thinking about." The strange man who had recruited her. Jane felt like an information whore – putting everything she knew out into the world with one man who she knew but didn't trust, another man she barely knew but did trust, and another man who she didn't know and didn't trust. Her loyalties and alliances were spreading thin and it was gaining up on her.

The identity of the third man drove her _crazy_. She wanted to know who he was more than anything at the moment. Even more so than she wanted to know what it was about Crane that made her so nervous. With Crane, she suspected a threat, yes, but one that was slowly developing. She would have enough time to prepare herself for what he had planned once she figured out what it was. With this other guy though…she hadn't been able to look into his eyes and that made her anxious. Normally she could read people very easily with the expressions in their eyes, but it had been so dark that night that she hadn't seen them.

Also not knowing who he was set her off. Falcone, he was a mob leader, a murderer, drug dealer, mastermind; Gordon was a by-the-book cop, a nice guy, family man; Crane was an intellectual, a creep, and brilliant, sneaky man. This new guy who had joined her circle? _Nothing_. She knew nothing about him and probably never would. Plus he wore a mask and fucking _armor_. Sort of like a criminal and fighter all rolled into one. It was strange, and she didn't like it.

People with masks had something to hide. She couldn't figure out who he was, but he seemed vaguely familiar. The way he moved and walked certainly triggered something in her mind. Jane knew she would have to study people more…maybe that would help her discover who the man in the mask was. He led a double life – masked man at night, someone else entirely by day. Why would he wear the mask in the first place if that wasn't true? He obviously wasn't from the Narrows – a normal criminal wouldn't have the means to gain the expensive body armor or the fancy equipment he used to launch himself into air.

The only people in the underground who could afford it wouldn't need a mask. They would flaunt their fancy new toys, not hide behind a cheap ski mask with holes cut out. No, this man was someone from the other side of Gotham…the good side, if there was one. Terribly wealthy, probably not married. Definitely not a cop or politician either. _Who was he?_

It wasn't like he tried to hurt her and she was going to find him and kill him. He had only lashed out at her when she provoked it. His blows hadn't been strong enough to kill, and she was mainly only hurt because of her own stupidity – her ankle was still being a bitch and she had steered clear of heels. She just didn't like that he knew her but she wasn't graced with the same knowledge. He had followed her or else he wouldn't have known about Gordon. Who else had been following her? If she hadn't registered his presence she wondered who else had gone unnoticed.

She didn't want to kill him either. He was a puzzle, one that she really wanted to fix but have fun solving it along the way. Rarely did things this interesting pop into her life, and in a way, it thrilled her to no end. A real mystery. She could be a Sherlock Holmes. A small smile graced her lips and she looked up to see Eric had already left. There were still unmarked folders in her hands and sighing, she figured she needed to forget the masked man for a bit and do her work. She still had to figure out something to report to Falcone before he became too restless.

Once she finished the files, she gathered them in her hands and began to make her way back to Crane's office. Surprisingly, she found that he wasn't as his desk like he normally was. With a frown, she laid the folders on the desk and was about to go find him when her eyes caught something.

His yellow notepad. She had seen him writing in it from time to time, normally after seeing his more advanced patients. The name on the center of the page attracted her attention: Raz al Gul. He wasn't a patient here in Arkham. She would have easily recognized the name if it was. Sneaking a peak back to the door to make sure Crane wasn't coming; Jane looked back to the paper.

It was a complicated formula, full of symbols her non-scientific brain knew how to decipher. Below the formula was a list of names she _did _recognize. Those were patients…all of his advanced ones. Some had lines drawn through them, others starred, and one was circled. James. Rebecca James' name was circled and highlighted with two symbols beside each other; one crossed through, the other underlined three times.

What was she looking at? Was this their medications? She didn't see any of their prescriptions written anywhere on the pad and that only confused her further. Crane having this didn't make any sense to her. Neither did the random 'Raz al Gul' name. Something about this was very weird and she had a feeling it was connected to the feeling she got when she was around him.

A scream tore her from her examinations and she ran around the desk, hurrying to the door. Outside, orderlies were dragging a young, wild-eyed woman off of another man, her cries echoing. Jane briskly went towards them, curious to see what was happening. In the past week that she had been here, this was the only violent nature that she had seen.

The woman was drug into a room, heaved up on a bed as she screamed and kicked at those holding her down. "Scarecrow!" She began to scream over and over again. Scarecrow? What was Scarecrow? Someone brushed past Jane and she realized it was Dr. Crane. He immediately looked to a blubbering, nervous nurse who seemed at a loss for words.

"I gave her the medicine and she suddenly just started _screaming_," the nurse told him. "Then I-I don't know _what _happened. She ran out of the room yelling about a scarecrow and started attacking a young man outside the door. I've n-never seen anything like it."

Crane's head swiftly turned back to where the woman was now strapped down, her body convulsing on the bed as she continued to let out ear-piercing screams. "Take her to the lab and do blood work. This may be a psychotic break and she needs to be heavily sedated. Use the strongest that you have, she's frantic and it will work through her body much quicker than it needs to." One of the nurses nodded and three of the orderlies began to push her out of the room. Jane stepped to the side as they went past, and she met the woman's eye for a second. They were unfocused, grazing and blinking throughout the room as she continued to screech.

When she turned back to Crane, she saw him speaking with the nurse. She reached into her pocket and gave him a pill bottle which he took. He turned on his heel, briskly leaving the room. Jane's eyes met Eric's and he motioned with his head for her to meet him outside. The hall was now empty that the commotion had died down and Jane ran a nervous hand through her hair. Those woman's eyes…they were so _frightened _as if she feared for her life.

Eric came out of the room and rubbed the top of his head, frowning. "That's the fifth of Dr. Crane's patients in three weeks that's screamed like that. They all screamed something about a scarecrow too. I talked to Jenna, the nurse in there, and she said that Crane had her switch the medications this morning."

"Are you saying something's going on with Crane and the patients?" She asked, leaning against the wall. Their voices were low, whispering as they both looked over the other's shoulder.

He shrugged, frown deepening. "I don't know, but something's going on. It used to happen once or so every month. It's been happening for about a year now – patients randomly screaming after their medications change. I don't know if it's a reaction to the medicines or the medicine itself."

"And they all scream about a scarecrow…This is rather strange."

"Be careful around Crane. I don't want him to screw you up either." Eric warned, "he's…in the right place, if you know what I mean. He just needs to be wearing a jumpsuit and no a suit." Jane gave him reassuring smile, nodding, and he turned away, walking down the hall. She walked back to the room and the nameplate caught her attention.

_Rebecca James_.

* * *

Jane stepped into Falcone's restaurant. Immediately, she headed towards Falcone when she saw who was sitting across from him. With a scowl, she realized it was Flass. Yet another crooked cop. Pulling up a chair, she plopped down at the table, glaring at the disgusting sap of a man before turning her attention to Falcone. Not only did she have something to tell him about Crane, but he had also told her to meet him at this time. Eyeing Flass, she hoped he didn't recognize her. Then again, she hadn't walked away from them yet so he could stare at her ass again.

"I need you at the docks on Thursday." Falcone said, moving his scotch away from him as he looked at both Flass and Jane. She lifted an eyebrow in surprise. Falcone had only asked her once to look over a shipment about ten years ago. After she had beat up three of his men who constantly made lewd comments to her, he never asked again.

Flass looked slightly surprise as well. He stank of alcohol and Jane wondered how he managed to even sit up properly. His eyes were half closed, mouth hung open. "Problem?" He asked with a drunken slur to his tone. Jane rolled her eyes, revolted.

"I don't want any trouble with the last shipment." Last shipment? Was this the one Crane had spoken of after Zsaz's trial that day? Probably. Anything mentioning Crane made her curious, and she leaned forward a bit.

"Sure," Flass took a deep breath. Falcone looked to Jane and she nodded. Of course she would go. "Word on the street is that you got a beef with somebody down at the D.A.'s office." _Rachel._

"Is that right?" Falcone asked sarcastically, probably a bit miffed that people were talking about it. He had wanted to catch Dawes by surprise, and he couldn't do that if everyone in Gotham knew about it.

"Yep, and that there's a fat prize waiting for anybody willing to do anything about it."

"So what's your point Mr. Flass?"

Flass leaned forward, blinking blearily as if he had just woke from a nap. He seemed more coherent though, now that they were talking about money and payments. "Have you seen the girl? The cute little assistant D.A. Think it's a little too much heat to bring down. Maybe it is, even for this town."

Jane was a little curious as to why Flass was trying to deter Falcone from going after Rachel. What sort of involvement did he have with her? Or maybe he was trying to protect her in some fashion out of the goodness of his black heart. Jane wondered if Gordon had said anything about it…

Falcone shook his head, laughing a little. "Never underestimate Gotham City. People get mugged coming home from work every day of the week. Sometimes – Sometimes things just go _bad_." Jane stiffened a little, slightly uncomfortable.

Flass shrugged his shoulders, sitting back in the booth while bringing the scotch to his lips. "Just a suggestion."

"Yeah? Well, I _suggest _you leave. This conversation is over." Falcone said seriously. Flass took the unspoken threat, rolling around and managing not to stumble too much as he walked through the restaurant and out the door. Jane stood and took her place where he had just sat. "So, what you got on Crane?"

"Just suspicions right now. I think he's tampering with some of the medication, making some of the patients go crazier than they are. One of the people that works up there told me that it's been going on for a while now." Jane put her chin in her palms and sighed. "I haven't figured it out yet, but something's going on. Is the shipment coming in his?" Falcone nodded. "What kind of drugs is he bringing in?"

"I don't know. Looks like cocaine. He just pays me to handle it and bring some to him. Half goes to Crane, the other half goes to my dealers."

Jane frowned, her brows meeting in the middle as she sunk deep into thought. "I think…I think something's wrong with those drugs…I saw on his notepad today several different equations. I'm not a science person, so I don't know what it's for but I think…I think he may be testing his own self-made drugs on his patients and it's causing them to go crazy. That's all I got though. When I find anything else out, I'll let you know."

"Good, good. Keep me updated." Falcone said and lifted his glass to her as she walked out. She took the back entrance, walking down the alley. Jane didn't know how to get in contact with the strange man, so she didn't really know what to do about that. If he wanted her, he would have to come and find her it seemed.

* * *

The sound of her window opening woke Jane from her sleep on the bed. She sat up quickly, and grabbed the gun on her bedside table. In a flash, it was cocked and trailed on the all-black figure that stood in her room. "Fuck!" She hissed, her arms quickly dropping back to the mattress. "Don't do that. I could have _shot_ you."

"Sorry," he said though his apology sounded more of a reflex than an actual apology. "What did you learn from Crane and Falcone?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you watch me all the time? Find a hobby, asshole."

"What did you learn?"

Jane sighed and placed the gun back on the bedside table. The fact that she didn't realize he was following her really ticked her off. "This shipment coming in on Thursday is the last one. It'll be at the docks. All drugs from what I know – all of Crane's. Falcone is having me and Flass, the lovely cop, there to make sure his goons do everything right. Falcone may make an appearance briefly when it first comes in, but he'll leave soon after that. Half is going to Falcone's dealers, the other half is going to Crane."

"Crane? What use does he have for them?"

"Honestly, I think he's using them to perform experiments on his patients. Today, he switched a woman's medicine and she went _crazy_. As in, screaming at the top of her lungs, ripping her hair out, and attacking orderlies crazy. I pulled her file and she's a schizophrenic, but nowhere near a psychotic break or anything. In fact, she's shown progress in the past few months. She was also screaming out '_scarecrow_'."

"One of her voices, maybe?"

"One might think that, but I talked to a guy who's been working there a while. Apparently, this isn't the first time it's happened. A few patients have been doing this for the past year or something, and they all scream about scarecrow. _All _of the patients had their medicines changed by Crane shortly before their episodes."

"Interesting…Do you think it has anything to do with the drugs coming in?"

"I think so, but I don't really know. I haven't been there to see where the drugs _really _go. They go to Crane, but the location where they're dropped is lost on me. Even half of a shipment is huge amount for one man, so Crane would have to keep it somewhere out of sight from anyone. He probably isn't interested in someone reporting it to the police. I don't think he has any connections up there."

"Do you know anything about Judge Faden?"

Jane squinted and gave him a confused look. "Faden? Yeah, he's corrupt and a dirty bastard that likes his hookers. Why?"

"Can you get dirt on him? If we're going to bring Falcone down, we need some kind of leverage over him."

"_We?_ No, no, listen: there is no _we_. There is a _you_." She stood from the bed and walked up to him, poking him the chest with her finger. "You're asking me to take down my _boss_. As much as I hate the guy, he's still keeping me afloat and is my one protection in this town. He's the only reason that I'm not going to be thrown in jail with the rest of them when the time comes."

"What do you mean?" He asked, undeterred by her surge of attitude.

"Why do you think I've allied with Gordon? I tell him what's going on with Falcone and he and Loeb will protect me when the time comes that the system isn't corrupt - which is probably _years_ from now. You're not going to catch Falcone unless you have more than, well, _you_."

"Good thing I have you then." She saw a smile on his lips.

"I don't think so. You and Gordon can play hero all you want. I'm just here to spill what's being said and that's it. I do have a life I have to live, you know? It's even known that I'm not going to testify against Falcone. I'm here to get good with the bad guys so that I let the good guys know all the big things that are going down. I can't do that when you come along and blow my cover."

He was shocked for a moment, not speaking and Jane crossed her arms. Right now, it seemed as if she was at his height instead of being shorter. She was pissed that he expected her to just automatically turn from Falcone. There was still Crane that she had to figure out. Even if Falcone was taken in, she still needed that connection to keep an eye on the doctor. He was cooking up something and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. But she couldn't do it if she was seen helping the masked man and Gordon.

"I can get you leverage over Faden, but you're going to need a lot more than that. Falcone needs to be arrested _at the scene_ which means you need to get there fucking _early_. If you don't catch him there, you won't have a chance at connecting him to anything and anyone else."

"I'll take care of Falcone," he growled, "just get the leverage."

"Roger that," Jane snapped, annoyed. "Now, I have to get up in the morning to try to find out what Crane's up to. So if you would be kind enough to jump out the window, I'd be very happy." A snarky smile that looked more like a grimace appeared and she turned from him and marched to her bed. When she looked back, he was gone and her window was slid closed.

Fucking idiot didn't have a chance.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I know I already posted today, but I'm happy to announce that editing is officially done. So this is my celebratory chapter. I will begin writing the sequel tomorrow unless something goes drastically wrong. This story is 16 chapters and will move fairly fast. I plan on using this as still more of an introduction to the characters and then play and flesh out things around in The Dark Knight. Because, let's face it, that movie is better than Batman Begins. **

* * *

Crane looked up from his yellow pad as Jane entered the office, tossing her purse into the chair as she crossed her arms, giving him an expectant look. "Miss Jane," he said, putting the yellow pad down before moving a few files on top of it. She narrowed her eyes. The pad must have had something confidential on it if he was trying to hide it from her. It may have had things on it that he didn't want her to read which meant she – or Falcone – would know people, places, or things on it. Crane was hiding something, and he knew she could figure it out. She was going to have to get her hands on the pad somehow. It could have something on it to help her understand the multiple questions she had about him. "I can say that I didn't expect you to be here today."

"Why is that? A little screaming isn't going to deter me, Dr. Crane." Smiling, she sat in the other chair across from his desk. "Surely you know me better than that. I'm not a scared little girl." Crane took off his glasses, a thing that she saw he did a lot when he tried to be all psychologist-y. He knew the effect his unnaturally icy blue orbs had on others, and used them to their full potential. They unsettled her, but she refused to cave in and be deterred by his glare.

"You seemed a little perturbed at the end of the day. A little…_off_ as if you were nervous about something. If it wasn't because of Ms. James, then what was it? It is completely understandable if you were. I know that you may not be used to seeing such things, but you must remind yourself that this is indeed a mental institution. We have quite a number of insane people here. Insane people tend to go into psychotic breaks so it will probably not be the only one that you see. That is, if you stay here much longer."

Crane was right in a sense. After she saw that James was on his yellow pad and witnessed a break, she had been so absorbed in trying to figure out what was going on in Arkham that she probably did appear out of it. In a way, she could understand how it would come off as nervous and anxious. When combined with the scene she witnessed, it wasn't a long shot to assume it was because of Rebecca. Still, Crane should be able to tell that hadn't been the reason. Perhaps he had also been absorbed in his own thoughts to diagnose her correctly…

"Nothing, doctor. I was just a little tired, that's all. Your final shipment comes in this Thursday. Falcone wanted me to let you know he would see that it went perfectly. I'm going to be there as well, so everything will go as smoothly as possible. Do you mind me asking, where will your half of the goods go? We want to make sure we send it to the correct place."

The doctor gave her a chilling smile that made her stomach drop through the chair and into the ground. "Curious, aren't we, Miss Jane," he remarked. "I've already made all of the arrangements possible. No need to concern yourself over my half. A friend of mine – a cop that I'm on good terms with - will be handling my half."

Damn. He caught her there. Before her mouth could drop into a disappointed frown, she switched it to a fake smile. "Going to trust a cop, Dr. Crane? Is that very wise? What if he suddenly decides to play Gotham Hero?" The words brought up images of the masked man and she pushed them away, focusing on Crane right now. "Cops tend to have loyalties that money may not be able to buy. For instance, I happen to know _a lot _of them have good ties with Dawes." She was lying, of course, but he didn't know that. At the mention of the assistant defense attorney, Crane's face tightened with anger momentarily. "Perhaps he's turning over a new leaf, wouldn't be the first rogue cop to do so. She's a very pretty young woman and isn't tied to anyone. A lot of men have been deterred by pretty faces before, doctor. As I'm sure you know."

Take that, doc.

Crane narrowed his eyes. Shifting in his seat, he place d his hands on the table. "I suppose you're right," he said after a prolonged silence. Jane had to force herself not to smile goofily. She had managed to trick the doctor. "I hope that I am not placing my trust in the wrong person. I may not be very intimidating, but I do have very powerful allies." His eyes held a strong warning to match his harsh tone and his conversation with Falcone flashed back in her mind. The ally he spoke of was one who frightened even Falcone. Crane wasn't playing…The thought worried her for a moment, but she pushed it away fiercely. It seemed she, too, was gaining powerful allies.

"I understand. Know that your trust won't be mishandled."

He smiled, though it wasn't a kind one. "I certainly hope not. For your sake." Adjusting the buttons of his suit, Crane leaned back in his chair. "My half is to be brought here, to Arkham. Around the back, you will find three other men who work here as well. You won't recognize them, but they will be the only ones there so it's not like you will have difficulty finding them. They will unload the cargo and take it down to the basement. You won't need to go down there; in fact, you probably won't be needed here at all. Just direct the cargo here and that will be all."

"Here at Arkham? Why would you need drugs like that in an asylum?" Her eyebrows bunched in confusion.

"A lot of my patients are addicted to drugs. I'm also working on rehabilitating that as well as helping their mind. Weaning them off the drugs they crave helps them get over their addiction and also makes them more cooperative."

"I see," she said even though she knew he was lying. Surely all of his patients weren't addicted to just one type of drug. His answer would make sense to her if she wasn't already suspecting him of experimenting with drugs. Well, at least she knew now where the drugs were going. That answered one question even though it wasn't a necessarily huge one. It also opened up several more questions

Crane seemed rather adamant that she not go in the basement of Arkham. What exactly was down there that he didn't want her to see? He seemed to have slipped when he told her that, for he seemed hurried to try to tell her not to come at all. Something was going on down there. Something that, like the yellow notepad, he didn't want her to know at all.

He was certainly a strange, curious man.

"Well, Dr. Crane, I'll see to it that your half of the shipment makes its way to you untouched. It shouldn't be too hard." She gave him a smile and stood, grabbing her purse. "Is there any files you would like for me to go through today?"

* * *

She had just finished up working with some folders in Crane's office when he announced he was leaving. It was, as usual, later than everyone else save for another psychologist and a handful of orderlies, and they were the only two left on their hall. Jane said a good-bye and left shortly after he did. Checking his desk, she found that he had taken the yellow notepad with him and cursed her luck before locking up the office and leaving.

In the hallway, she felt a little curious and went to the elevator. She never really had to use it – Crane himself stayed mostly on the main floor when she was around. When the doors opened, she was surprised to see Eric coming down the hall, asking her to hold it so he could go down to the parking garage. Jane faked that was what she was doing as well, and clicked the button.

Her eyes went to the control panel, looking for the button that led to the basement. Dejectedly, she saw that you needed a key in order to go down and frowned, which Eric took note of.

"Who has a key to get into the basement?" She asked, figuring he would know. Crane wouldn't give her an honest answer if she asked him and, quite honestly, she didn't want to ask him in the first place. Especially since her interest in the lowest level had been spiked only after he told her not to go down there.

Eric gave her a curious glance. "Dr. Crane and maybe a janitor or two. No one ever goes down there. It's supposed to be haunted or something," he smirked. "Why? There's nothing down there last I checked."

"When was that?"

"About a year ago. But trust me on this: no one wants to go down there. It's creepy, even for a guy like me. I don't think Dr. Crane even goes to the basement, and he's a creepy guy who would seem to like creepy things like that. Jane, what's your interest in it?"

"It's just…If I was going to mix drugs or perform experiments, I would do it somewhere secluded and where no one went. The basement, you say, is abandoned and everyone's too scared to go down there. The floor and walls are also pretty thick, it's underground – you could probably commit a murder with your victim screaming their head off and no one would ever notice. Are there cameras down there, too?"

He thought for a moment as the elevator doors slid open to reveal the dark parking garage. "You know what? I actually don't remember seeing the basement in the security room. I never thought about that…I'll ask around to see if anyone has a key. Maybe we can go down there and see what's going on."

"Thanks, Eric. I would appreciate that a lot. I've been thinking about what you've said lately and it kind of makes sense, you know? Crane seems…odd. Like he's hiding something."

"Well if he's hiding something, it's probably in the basement. If Crane really is experimenting on his patients then he'll have to do here in the building. That way it would be easier to get to the patients as quickly as possible. He also has the lab here."

"Wait!" She halted to a stop, Eric turning to give her a weird look. "We may not have to get a key from the janitor. Crane's going to court tomorrow…his keys will be here. I can take them and get into the basement."

"Will he know you've used them?"

"No, I'll just need to put them right back after we've used them. It'll be safer and quicker than getting them from someone else – that way you won't have to make up a story of why you need keys to go to the basement. Tomorrow, do you think you can get yourself away from work for a bit to come down there with me? If I need to go by myself I can."

"No, I can meet up with you sometime. Are you going to be in Crane's office all day?"

"Yes. Crane will leave around ten; he should be back at twelve. Can you make it in between that time?" He nodded and she smiled. "All right then. Eric, looks like we're going to go ghost hunting."

* * *

Jane heard the scraping of the fire escape and sighed, going over to the window and opening it. When she looked out, instead of the normal ski-mask-and-body-armor ensemble, she saw that he changed his look quite drastically. The body armor was the same, but he also had a black cape that billowed in the wind. No ski-mask covered his entire face, just a fitted helmet thing that she couldn't quite figure out how she would describe. She looked him up and down, finding that he looked pretty threating and fearsome in it, blending into the night perfectly.

"Nice outfit." She remarked with a smirk, leaning against the window frame. "You failed this time at trying to sneak up. Want to come in?" Not waiting for an answer and assuming he'd follow, she ducked into the bedroom and sat on the bed. Sure enough, he slipped in without a sound, looking quite odd standing in her room in the new outfit. "I like it. You look less like a cat burglar."

"Thanks," he said gruffly. So he was still keeping the strange accent that he adopted to mask his voice. "Learn anything on your friends today?"

"Crane's shipment of drugs goes to back to Arkham. I managed to convince him to let me handle it instead of some cop, so I will be taking his drugs from the dock to the asylum. Also, he told me not to go to the basement, said that he will have men out there to unload the cargo and take it into the building. Of course, me being me, I became suspicious and asked a guy there what was in the basement. No one ever goes down there and you have to have a key to get in. There's no cameras, no cleaning crew, nothing."

"So if he's doing experiments or something, it's probably down there in the basement."

"Exactly." She nodded furiously, sitting up higher on the bed and tucking her legs beneath her. For some reason, divulging this information to him excited her. "Crane's not going to be at Arkham tomorrow. This guy and I are going to take his keys and go down there to see what's happening. If he's doing anything down there, we'll find out tomorrow."

"You're a busy person. Already have everything figured out."

"Nope, not yet at least." Jane shook her head though his comment pleased her somewhat. "I don't have you quite figured out either…"

He chuckled. "Do I interest you that much?"

"Well, kind of. I mean, I'm more interested in what you're planning and who you are, actually. I keep trying to figure out who is beneath the mask, but I haven't quite put my finger on it yet. Though it's only a matter of time. "

"You really shouldn't try to figure me out. My identity shouldn't concern you as much as getting Falcone and seeing what Crane's up to."

Jane rolled her eyes, "of course you'd say that. But you have to look at our situation from my perspective. I mean, you know about me – who I am, who I work for, and where I fucking _live._ Then we have _you_, and I don't even know what color your eyes are. For someone like me this is a little disconcerting. I can't even get in contact with you once I find something out. I have to wait for you to find me, which I don't like. Falcone and Gordon? The second I figure out something important, I can have them on the cell in a flash. It's that simple. I also know more about them than they do about me, which gives me a bit of security, you know? I _know_ where they stand. With you…you're like a haze."

Silence stretched between them. Both of them stared at each other, trying to gauge the other's thoughts. Jane sighed, looking down at her hands. "Look, even though I'm on the 'wrong side' so to speak in some people's minds, and I seem to give information to _everyone_ in Gotham…I'm not a bad person. You can trust me. I also kind of need something to call you besides '_that masked man'_ which is what you've been dubbed in my mind."

"The reason I am keeping my identity a secret is to not protect myself, but to protect the ones I care for. If I became as involved in saving Gotham as I hope to, I will make enemies. Those enemies can't find out who I am or else they'll hurt the ones that surround me. If I were to tell you who I was and Falcone managed to beat it out of you, I would have that guilt hanging over my head for forever. Not only will knowing who I am hurt you, but it will hurt those around me as well."

"I can take care of myself. I'm not a helpless little girl you know. I'm a woman who's held her own against this city's worst thugs, so don't worry about me. But…if you don't want to tell me who you are, I have no choice but to respect your wishes until you've come to trust me more. In turn, I hope you find a better way to announce your visits. I'd hate to have guests over or, you know, be in the middle of changing and you whirl right on in like you own the place."

He smiled and handed her a piece of paper. "This is an untraceable number you can use to come in contact with me. I will try to answer as soon as I can though I can offer no promises. If it's an emergency, call quickly for a faster response. If it's during the day…it will pose major difficulties for the both of us, so try not to get in trouble too much during that time."

Jane laughed and took the paper, unfolding it to reveal a name and number. "I'm not one who finds herself in a lot of trouble. If I do, it's not like I'm going to call you so that you can save me like some fucking damsel in a movie. But thanks, Batman. It'll certainly help now that I can contact _you_ when I need to. I've always preferred things in my advantage."

"Be careful tomorrow. And tear up that piece of paper once you've saved it into your phone. I'd hate to have Falcone call me." Turning, his cape swooshed, creating a breeze through her room. He opened the large window and went onto the fire escape. Before he disappeared though, he looked back at Jane who now stood at the window, watching him. "They're brown."

"What?"

"My eyes. They're brown."

* * *

Shortly after Batman left, Jane couldn't bring herself to close her eyes long enough for a short nap. The anticipation for the coming day was far too much, making her jittery and anxious for the day to come. Normally before big jobs like this she would get this way, and so she was prepared for the adrenaline rush to keep her awake until what needed to be done was done.

So, unable to sit still, Jane decided she might as well try to get something on Judge Faden. She did tell Batman she would get it for him, and now seemed like a nice time to do it since she wasn't doing anything else but sitting on her couch. Pulling on her favorite oversized plaid shirt and boots, she grabbed her camera and left. Finding the judge wasn't going to be a problem – he was more than likely at Falcone's or somewhere down one the major prostitute streets of the Narrows. Having lived there since she was a child, sadly Jane knew where the streets were, and immediately decided that would be her best place to start.

Her boots sloshed through the rain and her hair frizzed. She didn't mind, though. Her eyes were too focused on her surroundings, making sure others were not following her or watching her. Getting mugged wasn't a priority for her. She had no purse or wallet on her, merely an older camera that still used film. The thugs that occupied the streets were also well aware of who she was. Everyone down here knew she worked for Falcone. That she was close to him, almost as a Lieutenant. The Vice-President to his President. The salt to his pepper.

There were always those idiots, though. More than once a few thugs thought they could hold her hostage and get money and drugs from Falcone. Little did they know that Jane knew from years under Falcone's service and her own time at the gym let her hold her own when up against one or two men. Any more than that and it was a bit difficult, but the idiotic thugs usually gave up once they saw that she wasn't just going to go quietly. After those few incidents, people learned it wasn't a fluke and stayed away from her. That reputation of fighting back and her close association with Falcone made most people steer clear of her, which was one of the reasons why she didn't really have any friends in the Narrows. People tended to steer clear of those who had mob connections.

Not that she needed any. She was always absorbed in keeping an eye out for both Gordon and Falcone that there was little time for social events. What little time she spent apart from the two men was in her bed. Now, with the addition of both Crane and Batman, her schedule had become overwhelmed as she desperately tried to keep her three men informed, and the one man watched.

It was all kind of funny, actually. Here she was, time spent with four different men, all wanting something different. Falcone, her loyalty and knowledge on Crane. Gordon, her trust and updates on the criminal underworld – mostly Falcone. Crane, her hard work and reports on Falcone – which she wasn't going to give under any circumstances. And then there was Batman who wanted her faith and insight on Crane _and _Falcone. Thinking of all the people she was tied to nearly made her head spin.

Even though Falcone was someone who she hated, Jane still felt she owed him something. He had taught her everything she needed to know, showing her the way to be a good liar and mastermind. It was only because of him that she saw things in a different light than others and why she was so perceptive. Being around him had made her guarded, which helped her not form attachments to those she might eventually have to kill.

Sure, she was working hard to put him behind bars. Her situation with Falcone was…strange. One that she didn't even fully understand herself. Yes, she wanted to see him in prison – the man needed to be locked up more than anyone she knew. But, in a way, he had become a shadowy father figure as she developed from an awkward teen into a strong young woman. She owed him a lot, and not just for the training either. He had helped her once when she desperately needed it, and it was a debt that she was still paying off today.

Jolted from her thoughts by a scantily clad woman bumping shoulders with her, Jane realized she was on one of the prostitute streets – dubbed the _Red Light District_. There were women everywhere, baring a lot and just covering the essential bits. Well, at least no one would mistake her for a prostitute. In her baggy shirt, skinny jeans, and scraggly hair, Jane stood apart from the women. Seeing this, they gave her no dirty looks but did sneer at the camera she had in her hands, turning their noses haughtily away as she made her way down the sidewalk.

She wasn't deterred, or even insulted by their lack of couth. Life in the Narrows was extremely hard, and she admired in a sense of the lengths they went to survive. A survivor was someone Jane always had a respect for, no matter what they did. Besides, she had a camera and prostitution was illegal. For all they knew, she was a reporter or even an undercover cop. Speaking of cops, why where there uniformed men down a bit further down the street? Did they seriously come down here to get off when crime was happening all around them? Fucking pathetic. Fucking cops in this town. She sneered and turned down an alley where the more expensive prostitutes were. She figured Judge Faden would be down this street. When she saw his shiny black town car, Jane knew she had the right instinct.

Quickly, she hurried further down across the street from the car. Sure enough, there was Judge Faden, speaking with a blonde woman who wore a short black dress and fishnet stockings. Lifting the camera up, she snapped away, zooming in as money was exchanged between he and her. Faden smiled at the woman a bit more, placing his hand on the small her back as he led her to the car. They were speaking, but from where she was she couldn't hear anything. Faden opened the door for her and she slid in before the car drove off.

_Well, at least he was a gentleman_, Jane snorted. She didn't know if these photographs would be enough for what Batman wanted, but for now it would have to suffice. From hearing him speak at Falcone's place, Faden rarely took more than one girl a night. She had made good time and was thankful that she hadn't arrived any later or else she would have missed him completely.

With a satisfied smile, she made her way back through the streets and to her apartment, quite pleased that she had at least one thing off her list scratched off and completed.

* * *

Eric was waiting for her outside the asylum when she walked up to the building the next morning. He was smoking a cigarette, staring down at the ground in deep thought. When he heard her, he looked up and smiled warmly. Such a nice guy. Dropping the butt onto the ground, he stomped on it a little, shoving his hands into his pockets, and looked back up at her. "Morning, Jane." He said, opening the door for her. "Thought you might chicken out or something."

Jane gave him an incredulous look, raising her eyebrows. He didn't know anything about her as she had yet to find sufficient cause to divulge anything about herself. Still, the comment caught her off guard and she laughed. "Me? Chicken out? Oh, Eric, you know absolutely nothing about me. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

He shrugged. "Sorry kid. Didn't mean to offend you or anything. It's just a lot of girls didn't go down there when it wasn't off limits in the first place. And here you are, all gung-ho about trying to uncover dirt on Crane. Why is it so important to you anyway? I mean, you haven't been working here for very long. Crane doesn't seem to despise you and you haven't formed a sort of attachment to any of the inmates yet."

"I don't like it when people prey on the week. By possibly testing his drugs on the inmates, that's exactly what he's doing. I may not know any of them personally, but they don't deserve something like that. It's not right, and if Crane is doing what we think he is, then he needs to be shown for who he really is – a monster."

Eric nodded, seeming pleased enough with the answer. When they reached Doctor Crane's office, his pager rang out and he glanced down at it. "Oh, damn. Got to go check on this. Just ring me up when he leaves." He turned on his heel and quickly went down the hall. Jane went inside the office.

"Dr. Crane?" Jane asked as the young man shoved a few folders into his briefcase, seemingly agitated about something. Throughout the short amount of time she had known him, she found that Crane didn't let a lot of emotions appear. He was like a strong, stone wall. Much better than even she was at placing that edge to his eyes and guarding his thoughts. Today was the first time she had seen him emote something other than boredom, curiosity, and humor at her own expense.

Crane looked up and his eyes narrowed when he saw he wasn't alone. With a flick of his wrist, the latch to his briefcase was flipped and shut firmly. "Ms. Jane, good morning." He gave her a curt nod and picked up a few stray folders, eyes scanning over them quickly. "I assume my list of things for you to do will be completed by the time I return. Am I wrong in believing so?"

Jane glared at him. He sometimes seemed to forget that she wasn't really here to work for him. Even though she did a few things to keep the other employees from looking in to the false degree from Gotham University Falcone had conjured along with a stellar recommendation from a false professor, it seemed Crane sometimes felt the need to boss her around as if was…well, her real boss.

"Yes, of course _Jonathon_," she left off the 'doctor' title, knowing it would catch his attention. It did, and his head shot up to study her small smirk as she crossed her arms over her chest. "You need to be a bit more careful while ordering me around. I don't take kindly to those who think they're better than I, and Falcone won't have me watching you for much longer."

His lips thinned and he snapped a file shut. She saw the tension of his jaw grow stronger. "Very well then _Jane_." As if that was going to bother her? She had been called far worse names in her time. With a lifted eyebrow, she turned on the heel of her ballet flat and went into the other, smaller office. It had become her space of sorts though she spent most of her time in Crane's office, sorting and organizing everything even though he was a meticulously neat man.

"I would also like for Rebecca James' folder to be pulled as well." Crane said as he brushed past her, heading towards the door. "The files should be waiting on my desk along with the others I listed. Please have them shifted through and make a few notes about their prior medications. Have a medicinal dictionary waiting as well."

"Aye, aye, Captain." She murmured beneath her breath just before he closed the door. He stopped, mouth parting a little as if he were about to say something else. She waited, eager to hear his retort when he snapped it shut and closed the door. A roll of her eyes and glance at her watch later, she picked up the phone receiver and dialed Eric's number. It rang a few times before he picked up.

"Yep?" He asked and she could make out the sound of wheels screeching in the background.

"Crane just left. I'll grab the keys and meet you at the elevator in the east wing in five minutes. That good?" Jane stood and went into his office. Pulling open the drawer she knew where the key ring was, she waited for Eric's answer.

On the other end of the call, Eric sighed dejectedly. "Actually, I'm not going to be able to go down there with you, Jane. A few of the patients got a little rowdy in the cafeteria and we're trying to calm everyone down. I can't expect to be able to break away from here for at least thirty minutes. Do you think you can go down there by yourself and be okay?"

"Oh, yeah, that's fine Eric. Do what you need to do. I'll tell you what I find, if I see anything that is. If I don't call you before Crane gets back, try to keep him stalled for me. Can you do that?" She said and jiggled the master key in her hand. After seeing Crane open every patient's room, closet, and interrogation rooms, she knew that it should open the basement. Or at least she hoped it did. If it didn't then she didn't know what she would use.

"All right. I can do that. Be careful down there. Probably a big mess, so be on the lookout for nails and stuff. No telling what kind of critters and stuff lives in that basement." Eric replied. Jane murmured a quick good-bye and hung up the phone. Keys in hand, she left the room and closed the door firmly behind her. No one visited Crane's room with the exception of a nurse or two who came every now and then. But they only spoke to Crane about patients, never even looked to Jane. She wasn't afraid of someone going in, seeing she wasn't there, and contacting Crane. Everyone here was wary of the doctor and used as little contact as possible with him.

The hallway was mostly empty, the patients being in the cafeteria and outside recreation area for a few hours to stretch and use up some energy. It took no time getting the elevator door open, and she briskly went in, stabbing the key into the lock underneath the 'basement' sign. Sliding in easily, she smiled and twisted it, the elevator lurching downward a bit. Jane stumbled, holding on to the side of the wall. The elevators were old, screeching a bit as it dropped two floors.

Once she reached the basement, the doors flung open. She pulled out the key and pocketed it. Stepping outside, her head looked down the hallway that ran horizontal to her. It was barely lit, a few of the lights hanging overhead blinking on and off from weak bulbs. Exposed pipes ran everywhere before disappearing into the concrete blocks of the wall. To her right, there was a longer hallway, turning a slight corner with several doors on the elevator's side.

Jane smirked, her eyes roaming around the otherwise vacant hall, the elevator's doors sliding shut behind her. She looked back it for a moment before returning to her examination of the basement. Someone visited this floor very frequently – otherwise there would be no working lights and it wouldn't be as clean. The lights gave her a greenish tint as she turned to her left, seeing that there was a large swinging door, much like those at restaurants, except they were a bit fancier in appearance. Large, antique doors that had smudges all around them, but mostly concentrated in the center where the doors met. Jane knew these areas were from someone – or some people – pushing the doors open and therefore wiping the dust clean.

This was definitely not an abandoned basement.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So for the past few hours, I have been mapping out the sequel to the story. After roughly twelve pages of notes and a sketchy timeline, I came to the conclusion that I'm probably going to have to split it into two parts. So there will be a sequel to this focusing on the aftermath of the events and setting up for The Dark Knight part. It's crucial that I get in that little character development so that Jane's appearance in TDK will make sense with what I have planned for her. It will be fairly short, nothing too long or anything.**

**Huge thanks to those who review/ favorite/ follow - you guys make my day! Love you all. Your super kind words fill me with butterflies and rainbows and happiness. So, thank you so much! Add me on Facebook for graphics and random, stupid things. Link is on my profile :D **

* * *

She went to her left first, putting her hands to the door, and pushing it open with a little exertion. They were heavy, wooden, and a little rotten feeling under her hands. They opened with squeals of protest. The sounds echoed all around her. An old metal, rusted railing stretched before her, peering down at an open space like a balcony and she stepped up to it. The doors swung shut behind her, but her eyes were solely on the ground below her.

It appeared to look like a sweatshop. Long wooden tables were stretched out, connecting and running through the middle of the space. In the middle of the room was exposed pipe, water rushing through it. Several cans – both empty and some that couldn't be distinguished – lay around it messily as if they had just been dropped there. A wisp of smoke curled up from near the concrete stairs that led down into the area. Old lights were hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the tables that had metal bins, bowls, long coils of rope and electrical wiring, and a few stray medical masks. On the back wall were a few white, stained basin tubs.

None of it really made sense to her, and she went to the steps. Gingerly, afraid that they weren't very solid, she went down into the space to get a closer look. She stepped on some broken glass and paper. When she looked closer to the tables, she smelled something horrible and strong, putrid like…rotten meat. Gagging a bit, she held her wrist to her nose, breathing in the aroma of her perfume to cancel out whatever it was that was causing it.

Yes, this place was most assuredly not uninhabited. It appeared that several people came down here due to the different stations. What exactly was going on down here? Jane couldn't tell, and the smell was so foul that she went back up the stairs. Looking out from above again, she realized the space looked very much like a laboratory. Perhaps this was where Crane could be making drugs…

Jane would have to go over it all with Batman before she came to any solid conclusions, and pushed the doors open. Instead of going back to the elevators, she went further down the hall, interested in seeing what was down there as well. Opening the first door, she found that there was nothing in it but a few straightjackets. Even though it was a bit daunting to see, it wasn't much of a strange sight in an insane asylum.

The next room, however, was a bit more interesting. When she opened the door, a little bit of rustling was heard. Combined with the absolute darkness, her nerves went on edge and she instantly pulled her knife from her waistband. Feeling up the wall beside her, her fingers felt against a light switch and she flipped it on. Light instantly filled the room, more rustling being heard. In the far corner of the room sat…Rebecca James? Shocked, Jane stepped forward to examine the young woman a bit more closely. The face was hidden from view, but whoever it was had the same dingy, unwashed black hair as James. They were in a straightjacket; hunched over with her legs pulled to her chest, white jumpsuit underneath dirty from the floor and socks holey.

"Rebecca?" Jane asked cautiously, stepping a bit closer. She kept her distance, though. Not being stupid and just running up to her, she knew that you needed to keep your space, especially when dealing with a person who had just recently had a psychotic break. "Is that you? Rebecca?"

"_Scarecrow_," a feminine voice whispered in a patchy throat. It sounded as if she hadn't drank anything in days. The sound sent a chill down Jane's back, and she sucked in a deep breath as Rebecca slowly lifted her head. Her cheeks were hollowed, cheeks gaunt. Jane knew the girl had once been gorgeous. Dark skin and beautiful, warm chocolate brown eyes. The eyes were now lost, not focusing entirely as they widened, fluttering a bit momentarily. "He's…He's not b-back, is h-he?"

"No, no, Rebecca. It's just me. Just me. Who put you down here?" Jane tried for a comforting voice to mask her horror at the girl's treatment and appearance, coming forward now to soothe the girl's hair. Rebecca slumped forward now into Jane's arms, and Jane twisted her a bit so that her face was up to hers.

After pushing strands out of her face, Rebecca began to speak again. "Scarecrow did. Sc-Scarecrow."

"Who's Scarecrow? Is he in your mind? Or is he real?"

"He p-_plays_ with my mind. D-Don't let h-him come back. You'll p-protect me, won't you?" Rebecca jostled a bit in Jane's lap. She knew that if her arms hadn't been strapped down she would have been clutched on to for dear life. Rebecca was in a wild ocean, and Jane was the buoy.

"Scarecrow's not here. He can't get you. I'll protect you, okay?" Rebecca nodded and closed her eyes. She sank into Jane's arms heavily. "Can you tell me who Scarecrow is? Do you know any of the people who brought you down here?"

But Rebecca was fast asleep. Her chest fell and rose easily, her face looking much more serene and peaceful. After a few minutes, Jane grasped that she was going to have to leave and clean herself up. Crane would be arriving soon, and she couldn't very well let him see her all dusty and dirty like this, possibly smelling of whatever was in the other room. Slowly, she slipped Rebecca's head out of her lap, easing her down onto the floor. Leaving her like this felt so _wrong_ but there was nothing she could do. If Eric were here, he could carry Rebecca back up.

Then again, whoever put Rebecca down here – this _Scarecrow _– would instantly know someone had ventured down into the basement. A frown on her face, she gingerly slipped from underneath her, placing her head on the concrete as she tried not to wake her. Thankfully, she didn't.

Hurrying out of the room, she closed the door and went to the elevator, pressing the button. Moments later, the doors opened and she stepped inside. Rebecca's face still haunted her as the elevator began to move. She actually felt horrible, like a despicable human being, for leaving her there alone, tired, cold, and scared in the basement.

Jane vowed that she would get Rebecca out somehow. Batman would probably help once she told him of what was going on. Well, after they figured it out at least. Everything was just so damn confusing. What was so important about this 'Scarecrow' that people were screaming about him? She couldn't put her finger on it at all. Was he a figment of their imagination? They were certainly terrified of him, or her, or whatever it was. Rebecca was practically shivering in her arms.

Maybe it was just that they were extremely delusional. It made sense. Jane wasn't a therapist or a doctor but surely their diseases and illnesses came with things like hallucinations and illusions. Perhaps hey were all slightly schizophrenics and had seen a movie with a scarecrow in it – _Wizard of Oz_ or something – and their brains all formulated a creature named Scarecrow that haunted them. It was definitely an option to consider.

The doors slid open and she went to Crane's office first. He wasn't in there and nothing had been moved around at all. Letting out a sigh of relief, she placed the keys back in the drawer then practically ran to the ladies' restroom. He should be back soon and she needed to make herself look like she did when he had left earlier. Using towels, soap, and water, she managed to get most of the dirt off of her. Sticking her knife in her waistband, she fluffed up her hair.

Back in the office, she grabbed her purse and sprayed her wrists with a bit of perfume to mask the smell of the basement and the strange odor she found. When she checked the clock on the wall, she saw that she had about thirty minutes before Crane was scheduled to come back. She grabbed several thick medical dictionaries, throwing them on the desk with loud _thuds_ before scrambling over the cabinet. With the list in hand, she went through all the names and pulled their files.

Carrying them back to her desk, she did as Crane had told her to do. Her handwriting was scrawny on the notepad she had, but they were still legible. Never had she flown through files as fast as she had, listing current and prior medications for the names. She had just dotted her last 'I' when Crane strode in. He glanced over at her momentarily before brushing past her rudely and going into his office.

Feeling more and more like a degraded secretary, she scooped up the files and notes. She dumped them on his desk rather crude-like, and smirked as he glared at her. "How was court, _Doctor _Crane?"

"Being a bit more patronizing than usual, Ms. Jane?" He quipped and began to go through the files. His eyebrows rose a bit at her handwriting, but he otherwise made no comment. If he had, she probably would have snapped off at him again. For some reason, the man's very air antagonized her. After seeing Rebecca, her disdain for him had grown. She didn't know if he was in on the ploy, but she had a suspicion that his medication had caused Rebecca to go insane like she was, and for that, she hated him. "If that's all the work you have for me, I have to run a few errands for Falcone."

Without waiting for a dismissal, she turned on her heel, grabbed her purse in the other room, and left. She simply couldn't take another moment in that building while knowing Rebecca was down in that dark room all alone. It didn't feel right at all and somehow, she had to break her out quick.

She just had to figure out how.

It was raining when she left Arkham, the downpour immediately soaking through her clothes, and she grimaced up at the sky. Times like this when she wished she had a car. Thunder boomed loudly and a lightning streak illuminated the darkened street just outside of the asylum. Halfheartedly, she wanted to turn around and wait out the storm in the waiting room. If she did, though, her thoughts would flicker to Rebecca, just a few feet below her and in that room by herself. That thought alone had made her anxious and snappy the rest of the day, alerting the interest and annoyance of Crane when the two had been going over paperwork of a newly inducted patient.

Jane was glad that she had on flats. Her steps on the concrete were a little more slippery than usual, the little shoes having no traction on the wet surface, and she wished profoundly for the comfort and security of her combat boots which currently resided right beside her door where she had pulled them off last night. With a frown, she carefully maneuvered down the street, not even worrying about the rain that was drenching her intensely. Her hair stuck to her neck and cheeks, the water weight of the clothes heavy against her tired body. The adrenaline rush of the prior night and the morning had left her, leaving her behind with a weary feeling in her bones. Thoughts of a warm shower and her bed pushed her to walk a little faster, and she slipped, catching herself on the side of a building.

A black, shiny car pulled up on the street, stopping right beside where she walked, and she ignored it, not really wanting to know what exactly the passengers would want with her. All she wanted to do was focus on getting home and contacting Batman, telling him of what all she had found down in the basement earlier. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the window of the passenger side roll down, a man's voice calling out her name. _That _got her attention, and she curiously turned her head to see…Bruce Wayne?

Her eyebrows knit together and she moved towards the car, bending down to get a good look at the playboy billionaire seated in the beautiful foreign car, snugged comfortably in an expensive suit that probably cost more than her apartment. What was someone like _him_ doing in this part of town? Even though Arkham was down in the narrows, that didn't mean it was a great place. Sure, it was the calmer part of the criminal underground world, but still. To be down here in this car was screaming for attention and a good mugging. Possibly even a murder. The rich did _not _last long down here, which was probably why none ventured to the area.

"You look a little…wet." One corner of his mouth lifted into a smile and she raised an eyebrow. When he saw that she wasn't amused, he cleared his throat and leaned forward over the seat again, closer to her so he could be heard over the pounding noise of rainfall and the loud swiping of the windshield wipers. "Would you like a ride? It isn't smart to be out in weather like this."

Bruce hadn't expected to come across his new friend. He figured she was probably still in the asylum digging up dirt on Crane to share with Batman later, considering that he had yet received an update through the number he gave her yesterday. Nonetheless, he couldn't say he was displeased. Now would be a good time to test her loyalties, see if she spilt easily when it came down to it.

"I'm not a prostitute, Mr. Wayne," she snarled and pushed away from the car, walking as fast as she could without slipping again on the ground. There was only one reason a man like him would be in a place like this. Jane had read about Wayne's playboy lifestyle and quite truthfully she was a bit surprised to see him down here still. Surely he knew the prostitute section was on the lower streets? Why didn't he just get one of his girlfriends? A man like Wayne could have his pick of any woman, even the respectful ones up in the better parts of Gotham. With his handsome looks and loads of cash, he shouldn't have to leech down _here_. But, who was she to judge. Jane had seen multiple cops, judges, commissioners, and more reputable men with the drug dealers and whores before.

In the car, Bruce scoffed and pressed the gas a little more, slowly creeping along the sidewalk to keep up with her pace. "Do you seriously think I would need to come down _here _for sex, Ms. Jane? I considered you a smart woman, but perhaps I was wrong."

"I've seen judges and cops down here," Jane echoed her thoughts as she shot him a dirty look. "So why shouldn't someone like you be down here as well? I don't deal with the cheap thrills that a whore can provide, nor do I know what sort of sick perversions and fetishes you have that the higher-class sluts won't and can't provide. Maybe that's why you're down here. Or perhaps it's to protect your own identity. Aren't escorts and their customers rather close up on the upper side? What? Afraid that one of them might go the press and expose you for the sex _freak_ you are? A humble, ordinary prostitute wouldn't do that, though." She shrugged her shoulders and pushed her hair back off her face. "I didn't take you to be a _complete_ dumbass, though perhaps I am wrong."

His mouth dropped open a bit. He didn't know whether to be insulted or humored. Even though he knew Jane to be witty and hot-mouthed, he hadn't expected _that_ at least. With a chuckle, he made a quick check to make sure the street was empty in front of him before speaking to her again. "Funny, Ms. Jane. I can assure you, though, that sex is not the reason why I'm down here. But while I am here, I might as well offer you a ride to your home and give you a little shelter from this storm."

"I don't need shelter. I'm doing quite well on my own, you see," with that, she slipped on the concrete once more and stumbled a bit. Cursing, she caught her balance on a light pole and began stepping a bit more carefully. "Well, I'm doing fine _enough_."

"You're quite stubborn," he remarked.

"And you're quite determined." Jane grimaced. Moving around a particularly deep-looking puddle, she blinked a few drops out of her eyes and resisted the urge to curse more. _What fucking luck_, she thought as the rain seemed to pour down harder. It seemed that nature was working against her. She still hadn't made much progress from the asylum, clenching in agitation as her body shivered from the cold. Turning, she saw his car was still there and he was giving her an amused look, watching as she stood out in the rain looking very much like a drowned cat. Putting her hands firmly on her hips, she whirled around to glare at him viciously. "Why are you still here, Mr. Wayne?"

"Please, Ms. Jane. Just get in the car. Your pride won't be damaged extremely so by allowing me to take you to your apartment. I ask for nothing in return, just the pleasure of your _satisfactory _company." Bruce's tone was beginning to be a bit tight, growing tired of her refusal. Honestly, why did she have to be so stubborn? He was trying to do a gentleman-like thing with the offer and she shot him down instantly. To his knowledge, if was the first time he had offered anything to a woman and being turned down quickly. So _this_ was what rejection sort of felt like…It sort of angered him a bit. Yet, it also felt kind of nice and different. With her, he saw that he wasn't going to be getting a different side of her personality than anyone else might get. Unlike others he was forced to socialize with, Jane wasn't going to sugarcoat anything, and would be herself, no matter who he was or what money he had. It was quite refreshing, and he found that he enjoyed it.

Jane stopped suddenly, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as the rain poured off her face before rolling off and down her body to seep into her clothes. She groaned in frustration, stretching her neck for a moment before puffing out a breath and standing up a bit straighter. With a huff, she turned towards Bruce's car and opened the passenger side door, sliding into the heated leather seat quickly to escape the rain. The window let up, trapping her into the warm and dry shell of the extremely expensive and gorgeous sports car. Bruce turned the heater up a bit more, fixing the vents so they went directly on her.

"Thanks," she mumbled, pulling her hair across her shoulder. Squeezing the ends, she tried to get as much water out of her strands as possible before shaking it out with her fingers and rotating her head to look at Bruce. The car was at a complete stop, and he was looking at her as well. "But go straight to my apartment. No funny business. You know very well what I can do with a knife, Mr. Wayne." He cracked a smile at her steely expression and defensive tone.

Shifting the car into gear, he drove from the curb and onto the street. Quickly, he remembered that even though he knew where she lived, he realized he _shouldn't _know. "Where to?" His eyes darted to hers to see she was putting her hair up into a low ponytail, soothing it down.

"Oh, um, Broadlane. Two blocks from here, take a right, then a left. It's going to be on my side of the street." He nodded and sped up just a little. The veil of rain made it rather difficult to see even with the fast-moving wipers, so he kept his speed low, gliding across the street. Bruce noticed that now Jane was in the car, the streets were empty of any other pedestrians. It didn't really surprise him, not much would happen tonight, which was why he hadn't donned the batsuit. That - and he had been making rounds through Gotham and buying numerous hotels. His rather rocky encounter with Rachel still haunted him a bit, and he frowned as he recalled the disappointed look in her eyes. It had been the first time he _really _saw her since he had gotten back into Gotham, and he hadn't wanted their reunion to play out like that. Especially not with the two models waiting for him in his car.

"So if you're not here for the sex, Mr. Wayne, why in the hell _are _you here? Surely you're not joyriding. The weather's awful and I'm positive there's an extensive amount of country road around your estate. I should know. I practically ran through it all." Jane commented, noticing the silence had become a bit too awkward for her liking. She wasn't one that had to have a conversation going the whole time, but she sensed something was bothering him. And hey, he was being nice enough to give her a ride, the least she could do was be cordial enough to distract him a bit.

"Call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne was my father." Bruce gave her one of his drop-dead smiles that always seemed to woo the ladies around him. He wasn't necessarily trying to flirt with her…okay, well, maybe he was. A little. Bruce would be lying if he said Jane wasn't attractive, because she certainly was. She had a natural beauty about her and a simple style that really brought that to attention.

In turn, Jane saw his smile and merely blinked. She knew that type of smile – Falcone had attempted it before but had failed miserably. Bruce's gave her a little shock down her spine, but she threw her walls up to prevent it from showing in her eyes. Bastard. She couldn't believe he was trying to pull tricks like he did with his floozies. She wasn't that type of girl and Bruce should have that figured out already based on their prior encounters. "All right then. Call me Jane. Ms. Jane sounds like…I don't know, something bad. Like I'm fifty or something."

Bruce nodded and turned his eyes back to the road. "Anyway, to answer your question, I'm just driving around. Trying to clear my head a bit and I ended up down here."

"Around Arkham? In the Narrows? Surely there are better places to drive than around here. This isn't the best part of Gotham just in case you didn't know." Bruce turned the car to the right.

"I'm more than capable of protecting myself, Jane." _As you know, but still sort of don't know. _"I was already in town, having visited a few hotels-" _that I bought_ "-dined with a few people-" _models who have no brains_ "-and saw an old friend or two-" _making myself appear to be a giant asshole_.

"Oh? Sounds fascinating," she said boredly, not really taking an interest into his day. She on the other hand, had had a pretty exciting day. Snooping around in a supposedly empty and haunted basement of an insane asylum, discovering a female inmate down there as well, and soon she would be on the phone with Batman telling him about all she had seen. Anything different was _elementary, Watson_. "Are you keeping a close eye on your girlfriend? Falcone hasn't said anything about her, and I know I warned you to keep her close the last time we met…"

It took Bruce a minute to understand just who she meant and he resisted the urge to crack a smile like a twelve year old boy. "Rachel and I are not dating. We're just friends," he clarified, gripping the steering wheel as the events of the night flashed in his mind _again_. Would he ever get over that embarrassment? Hopefully next time they saw each other she wouldn't have that condescending tone and critical look. He hated seeing that and knowing he was the cause of it.

Jane's eyes went to where his knuckles were knuckles were whitening on the wheel. "But you'd like to be, wouldn't you?" Bruce gave her a sharp look as he turned to the left. She resisted the urge to smile, realizing that Bruce _did indeed _harbor feelings for the pretty assistant defense attorney. In a way, though, she felt sort of sad for him. Rachel didn't seem to be one looking for a relationship at the moment, being swamped with paperwork and trials. Frowning, she turned away and the car slid to a stop in front of her apartment building.

Bruce suddenly remembered the reason why he had offered her the ride in the first place. "Oh, you live in the Narrows. I meant to ask…have you heard of this _Bat _character? Batboy or man. Something like that. I heard on the news that there was some man dressed as a bat running around down here, and didn't know if you had seen him." Though his eyes reflected a sense of nonchalance and vague curiosity, they were also sharply trained on her, gauging her reaction.

She turned to him flippantly, shrugging her shoulders. "Sure, I've heard of him - I think everyone has. Seen him? Can't say I have. Sorry." Her eyes, too, were dead of emotion, almost as if she was bored with the subject. Reaching down, she grabbed her purse and put her door on the handle. "Thanks for the ride, Bruce." As she gave him a quick smile, she opened the door and slipped back into the rain, closing it and running to the door. She slipped a little, sliding across the surface, but managed to make it to the door without falling on her face or breaking any bones. When she made it under the tattered awning, she turned back to see Bruce's car still sitting there, and even through the window she felt his gaze on her.

Bruce watched as she turned back to the door, opening it, disappearing inside. Checking the road, he pulled away and drove down the street. Even though he hadn't tested her as much as he would have liked, he felt that for some reason he could trust Jane.

Perhaps with a lot more than having an association with Batman.

* * *

Jane gathered her wet clothes in her hand, lugging the dripping wet fabrics to the laundry room where she tossed them into the cheap old washing machine. Her skin was still stinging pleasantly from her hot shower, red and blotchy in areas. But it felt like heaven to be warm and dry in an oversized button-down and fluffy pajama pants. For some reason, Jane had an affinity for men's button-down shirts. Her closet was half-filled with them. Those paired with her combat boots and skinny jeans were her normal attire. When she discovered she was going to be working with Crane, Jane had to go out and buy her a few professional looking skirts and blazers. All she had were her work clothes and leather jackets, and she had an inkling that the stiff doctor would _not _appreciate that.

Once she had the washing machine going, she went back to her bedroom, flopped down on her comfortable bed, the thick comforter soon covering her as she snuggled down into it and enjoyed the warmth and comfort it provided. Her hands blindly felt around above her for her phone. When they scraped across the screen, she wrapped her fingers around it, lifting it over her head as she flipped it on and scrolled through her numbers. Finding Batman's, she hit _send_ and then placed it to her ear.

While waiting for him to pick up, Jane turned on her side and patiently listened to the ringing on the other end. About three rings in, he picked up. "Jane," he acknowledged in his husky tone. Was she the only person he expected to call him?

"I went down into the basement today – by myself, might I add. And I found a lot of interesting things down there. For one, it appeared to look like a sweatshop type of room. Like a laboratory sweatshop. It smelled weird, so I didn't stay down in there for very long, but something is definitely going on down there. They had a pipeline cracked open with barrels next to it, so I don't know if they're pouring stuff into the water or are using the water for something else…There were medical masks everywhere, and tubs, and just weird stuff. I think you and your fancy gadgets need to check this place out yourself."

"Did they have any chemicals out? Notice anything unusual like a discoloration of the water?"

"Not that I saw. But listen, there's another thing that I really need to tell you. When I left that room, I came across another in which there was a patient – Rebecca James – who was in a straightjacket. The room was pitch-black dark and she was scared to death when I came in. Someone's messing with her, and I don't like it at all. She was _shivering_ and crying about something called 'Scarecrow'. She was so scared. So _terrified. _We have to get her out of there. I can't stay there knowing she's down there and not do a thing about it."

"Do you think Crane has something to do with all of this?"

"In a way, it would make sense. I mean, ever since he started working there strange things have happened. Patients have been frightened of Scarecrow and if he's mixing drugs, it could be a huge side effect. A part of their hallucinations. It would make sense, you know, testing drugs on the inmates. Who's going to believe them if they start to complain? No one. Because they're supposedly crazy. I remember seeing Rebecca on a list in Crane's office one time. Remember when I told you about the girl who's medication he switched and she went batshit crazy? Yeah, well that's _her_. She went crazy that day and her name was on a list with equations and scientific stuff." Jane threw the covers off and began pacing around the room, her heart beating frantically in her chest.

She pushed her hand through her hair, the grip on the phone tightening as she swallowed the tears. Even though she was tough, she was still bitter, angry, and saddened by Crane's treatment of his patients. They very well couldn't help themselves at all and were subject to his sick desires. She felt like she was going to throw up, and a sob escaped her lips as she thought of Rebecca in that room…the terrified eyes haunting her.

"Jane? Are you all right?"

"No. No, I'm _not_. I want to kill that bastard. I want him _dead_. I want to kill him myself. He deserves it more than anyone I know. No matter how guilty those people may be, they don't deserve _that_. They're still people no matter what they've done. I can't believe I'm saying this…"

"We'll get him. In the meantime, you need to stay away from Crane. Don't harm him yet. Trust me, his time will come, but he needs to go before a judge-"

"A judge!?" She snarled into the phone. "What the _fuck_, I thought you were on my side here? He can't go before a judge, not with the connections he has. He'll have to be caught red-handed, just like Falcone. Don't underestimate him, Batman. I did, and now I regret it. Crane's the type that can outsmart someone, he could talk his way out of anything and everything. That, and he has _powerful allies, _or so he says. Some guy by the name of Raz al Ghul. Falcone's –"

"Did you say Raz al Ghul?"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks to all who have favorited/ followed/ reviewed! Once again, you make my day :D **

* * *

"Yeah." She scrunched her eyebrows together in thought. Who was this al Ghul guy? Did everyone know him but her?

"That's impossible. He's dead."

"Well, he very well may be. Crane's probably using him to make Falcone squirm. It's working rather well too. Back to Crane though – why can't I kill him? The fucking bastard needs to be taught a lesson."

"Yes, and he very well can't do that when he's _dead_ now, can he?" Jane was silent. He was right, she had to admit. "Let _me_ deal with Crane. You will have your justice, Jane, just under different circumstances and ways."

She crossed her arms over her chest and banged her forehead on the wall. "Fine. We'll do this your way. I still think my way would be better though. Are you keeping Gordon updated? I feel like I'm leaving him out of the loop so much. I kind of miss the guy," she chuckled a little, trying to move onto a different subject. Even though she knew Rebecca's face would plague her nightmares tonight, she didn't want to think about that right now, at this moment.

"Yes, I'm updating him. He knows that you and I are working together."

"Oh, I have the leverage on Judge Faden." She turned to her purse and grabbed it, noticing that the rain had mostly stopped outside. Lightening still flashed off in the distance, brightening the room for a split second. Digging into the purse, she pulled out the developed photographs of Faden and the unknown prostitute. "I don't know if it's enough, but it was all I could get."

"Save them for tomorrow night. I'll get them at the docks."

"So you are showing up tomorrow? I didn't know for sure or not."

"Yes, I'll be there. It's time for Falcone to be behind bars."

Jane snorted, putting the photos back in a ziplock bag and stuffing them into the purse. "Oh yeah? Do you know how many times people have tried to do that? It's practically impossible to do, even for someone like you. Cops have been trying forever to grab Falcone, but he always slips through their fingers like the little sneak he is."

"I haven't tried yet." Batman breathed, "He won't make it past me. You won't have to do anything. Just be there and do your job as normal. I promise that you won't be stopped by me or anyone else that may show up. Just don't _shoot_ me."

"I don't think my bullets are a match for that suit you wear. Besides, that would depend on just how badly you piss me off."

"True. The suit is bulletproof." He chuckled. "Just…be careful. I can't have my intel dying on me."

"After Thursday, you won't need intel." Jane realized that she was actually a bit sad about that. For some reason the knowledge that she wasn't going to be working with him anymore made her rather upset. Even though they only had a few conversations, and most of them included her insulting him in some fashion, she had grown to actually, well, _like _the guy. Not in a romanticized version, but as a friend. She didn't have many, and she had come to like bantering with him. There was something about Batman that she admired greatly, which wasn't something she normally did. Sure, she thought at first that he was strange, insipid, and stupid, but he seemed to really want to crack down on the crime in Gotham. He desired to make it a better place and protect those that couldn't protect themselves.

Batman was silent on the other end, and she bit her lip, digging her teeth into the tender flesh. The prospect of Falcone being gone frightened her a bit now that she thought about it. Even though she wasn't worried about being thrown into jail – Gordon and Loeb had promised her that, and she knew Gordon to be a truthful man – but…what would she do now? The past ten years or so had been spent spying on Falcone, and now that he was about to be gone she wasn't too sure of her place in society anymore. She wouldn't serve a purpose to anyone. Not Falcone, not Gordon, and not Batman. She would be out of a job and would somehow have to find something else.

What would she do? She couldn't use anyone as a reference. She supposed that she could try to strike up another deal with Gordon and work for another mob, but climbing up the ranks again seemed daunting. Plus, she wouldn't have the background with them like she did with Falcone. They wouldn't take her in as easily, especially with her being associated with a rival family to begin with.

"I'm sure we can find something else for you to do. Don't worry yourself over it." Her nerves were soothed a little and she let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. He was right – she needed to stop thinking about it and worry about now. Besides, she still had Crane to handle after Falcone. Maybe she could still work with him, even if he took care of it fully somehow. She would have to figure out a way to stay with Crane, though. Especially with Falcone out of the picture. It would be tough, but she figured she could weasel the psycho into letting her stay. Maybe this time he would actually put her on payroll.

"Okay, well…I guess I'll see you tomorrow night then." She cleared her throat and switched the phone to the other ear. "I'll be easily discernible seeing as how I'm the only female that will be there."

"I'll be the guy in the batsuit. I may be a little harder to find." Jane realized that his voice was no longer gruff, softening into a regular tone. It seemed familiar as if she had heard it before. But where? He seemed to realize he broke character as well, "keep safe, and stay away from Arkham for tomorrow." The line went dead and Jane flipped her phone closed. She went over to her bed and placed it on the bedside table, lifting the covers and sliding in. Feeling instantly warm, she reached back for her phone and shot Falcone a quick text saying she may be coming down with something. She wouldn't be able to go to Crane, but she would be at the docks. He replied, saying it was fine.

Replacing the phone, she switched the volume off, and snuggled back into the sheets. Her body felt tired, heavy. Her mind swam restlessly with the conversations she had had tonight, but lingered on the more meaningful one: Batman's. She itched to know who it was behind the mask, eager to place the voice he had slipped into when he had become too comfortable. For a second, he had dropped his guard, joking back with her unnecessarily and therefore breaking free of the rough and tough voice he normally had. If only he had kept it, she might have been able to certainly place it then. But with the just small bit she had heard, it would be an impossible task to do so.

She flipped over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Reaching up, she pinched the bridge of her nose. Trying to fall asleep was certainly going to be a fun experience on a night like this…

* * *

Jane watched with a bored expression as men loaded Falcone's men picked up cardboard boxes of the drugs and stacked them into the truck that would go to Arkham. They worked rather slowly, which was good. It would work in both her favor and Batman's whenever he deemed fit to arrive. She sighed, shifting in her seat, adjusting the legs of her black skinny jeans. Falcone sat across from her in the black stretch limo, looking out the window at the men with a slight scowl on his face. He didn't wear his normal tailored suit. Instead, the thick brown overcoat he wore over a white buttoned shirt and tan slacks made him appear like any other grandpa. If it weren't for the scowl and hard lines of his face, he would look approachable and quite friendly.

In his hands, he held a bunny. The bunny had a certain amount of the drugs in them – how much, she didn't have a clue. She never really paid much attention to the mathematical aspects of the operation. That would be the dealer's job. Thinking about something as insignificant as that wasn't worth her time or brain power. There was much more important stuff to worry about. Falcone looked away from the window, gazing down at the bunny as his thumbs traced over the dirty and inexpensive layer of fur over it. The bunny had to look somewhat like a real toy and not a drug mule. Even though it was in a saddened state, she guessed it looked good enough.

It was pitch-black dark outside. The roads still had a few puddles from the intense rain that had begun shortly after Jane finally fell asleep the night before. Everything was wet, mucky, and nasty. Her hair was pulled out of her face in a high ponytail, having reacted horribly to the humid air. The white tank top provided little protection against the cold, but it was easily helped by her standard leather jacket. Her combat boots were scuffed and wet from the short walk to the docks from her apartment where she had found Falcone's limo already waiting. She had just arrived about ten minutes ago, and already felt anxious that Batman hadn't shown up yet.

Neither had Flass. Maybe Falcone was waiting for him to come so he could give the two of them orders on how the bunnies were supposed to be distributed but it seemed like his men already had it down pretty smoothly. Falcone already knew Crane had asked for her to be in charge of his half and had yet to inquire about the shift. She crossed her legs, swinging her right leg a bit in the air due to nervous energy, and her eyes scanned the area around the docks looking for a tell-tale dark shadow. She found none, and sighed, leaning back against the seat.

"Troubled, are we, Jane?" Falcone said, and Jane lifted her head to make eye contact with him. "You haven't said much since you arrived. Still feeling a little sick?" His voice lacked the concern and care, but she realized that she didn't bother with it. Soon, he would be out of her hands and life for good. In a way, it was a bit nostalgic; he _had _helped her a lot. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that he was going to have to go. He had harmed far more lives than he had helped. His reign was over, and she was going to be there to witness his fall.

"Just a little, but it's fine. I guess I need to invest in a car. Last night's rain must have really got me more than I expected it to. I hate that I missed Crane today, though. The man's strange and I think I almost have him cracked. Shouldn't be too long now until I have something you can use against him instead of the other way around."

"What about those experiments you told me about earlier? Come to any conclusions about that?"

"I have a strong suspicion that he's experimenting on the patients with drugs he manufactures himself. I took a little trip down into the basement when he wasn't there and found a laboratory type thing." She pushed a stray hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. Falcone was looking at her with curiosity now. "He's a crazy man. The nut that's in charge of the nuthouse, so to speak."

Falcone gave her a nod, seeming pleased with the new information. "I always thought the man was a little…odd. Not scary by any means, just strange. As if he is in some whole different universe." He looked back down at the bunny in his hands as if it would tell him something. His face was a little sad, and Jane narrowed her eyes as she took in his expression. "I should have never agreed to work with him. I thought it would be great for profits – and that it has been – but I think I may have signed my death warrant the day I decided to help him out."

Jane frowned a little deeper as she shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked back out the window to see Flass speaking with the men. He was obviously screwing with their heads, one of the men appearing extremely jumpy and uneasy about having a cop close by. Rolling her eyes, she scoffed at his stupidity – did that man really think that a _real_ cop would ever get this close to Falcone without having a bullet through the chest?

Flass' body shook a bit with laughter and he walked towards the limo, throwing a bunny down on the ground. She saw that he did, however, slide the bag of drugs into his pocket. Of course he was a druggie. It shouldn't really surprise her. The man was deplorable in every sense of the word anyways. He opened the side door and scooted in, not waiting on an invitation to do so. He moved his huge girth in an attempt to get comfortable.

He gave Jane a look and a broad smile, which she blatantly ignored and looked out the window, searching for Batman. Flass turned to Falcone, his eyes going to the bunny that was till in Falcone's hands. "It's fun out there," he remarked stupidly. Jane snorted. What was _fun _about this? "Problem, _girl_?"

Clenching her jaw, Jane turned to glare at Flass, her eyes traveling down his body and filling with disgust and pure loathe. How she hated crooked cops. "Actually, I do have a problem. With _you_ in particular."

"Now, now, Jane," Falcone warned though his voice was light with a trace of humor. "Let's be _nice_ to Detective Flass here." His eyes flickered from the bunny to her, a careful warning in them. If she pissed Flass off too much, he might decide to become all righteous. Falcone would lose his number one crooked cop and things wouldn't go as smoothly from now on. She resisted the urge to chuckle, breaking eye contact and working the tightness out of her jaw.

"The bears…they go straight to the dealers?" Flass asked after a moment of pleasant quietness. Well, he was certainly more observant than she. Jane hadn't realized there were more than just the bunnies. Curiously, she looked to Falcone, watching as he sighed. Not that she blamed him for being annoyed by the question – this wasn't Flass' first time on the docks. He _should _know.

"Yeah, and the rabbits go to the man in the Narrows." Falcone spoke dismissively and her ears perked a bit. He looked at her from underneath his eyebrows and the message was very clear: _don't say anything_. So he was lying to Flass. Duh.

"What's the difference?" Flass' voice was laced with stupidity.

Falcone looked from Jane to meet the cop's hazed eyes, smirking a bit. "Ignorance is bliss, my friend." Well, he was right on that account. Jane almost wished she didn't know about the drugs. "Don't burden yourself with these secrets of scary people." With her attention shifted back to the windows, she watched as a few of the men disappeared into the aisles between the crates. She didn't really know or care about what the men were doing. All she wanted was for Batman to get there before Falcone left. He would never pin him to the scene if Falcone wasn't there.

She noticed that three of the men remaining had their heads turned sharply in the same direction. Interest piqued, she strained her eyes to see a bit more clearly through the fogging window. One of the men gave a scared glance towards the other two behind him before he started walking towards something to his left. He was looking down an alley, the aisle itself obscured from her view due to the crates, and his mouth began moving, calling out something that she couldn't hear. The man walked slowly, creeping, and with one last glance thrown back to the other two who remained by the truck, he went from her sight.

Was Batman finally here? She didn't alert Falcone and Flass of the situation that was unfolding outside of the limo, and when she gave them a quick check they were still looking at the bunny. Flass' eyes slid shut and he leaned his head against the back of the seat. Jane went back to her observation of the men, noticing that the other guy still hadn't come back into view. Another man had left, following the first into the crates, leaving Jane with next to nothing to look at. She wanted to get out of the suffocating limo and see what was happening, but didn't dare move in fear of breaking Falcone's and Flass' diverted attentions.

A cry echoed through the air, causing Jane to jump from anticipation that had built up. Flass' head immediately lifted from his sleep, snorting as he woke in surprise. Gun shots rang out, echoing and deflecting off of the metal crates. Jane moved toward the door quickly, eager to see the scene play out. Pulling out her gun from its' holster at her hip, she came to a dead stop. _Falcone_. She had to make sure Falcone couldn't leave before Batman got to him. Hurriedly, she turned on her heel and ducked low as she snaked around the edge of the vehicle to the driver's side. She opened the door, the driver giving her a strange look before her hand wrapped around the back of his throat. His mouth opened to cry out a warning, lips separating in shock and eyes widening, but she bashed his head hard against the steering wheel before he could utter anything. Body slacking, he fell to the side. Jane reached in and grabbed the keys into the ignition, shoving them into her pocket before she stood. Closing the door with her hip, she slid across the hood, landing firmly on her feet before racing back towards the crates. Noticing Flass walking towards his car, she gave him an ugly look and resisted shooting him in the back.

_No_, she thought, _I'll take care of _him _later._ Ducking through the corridors, she slowed her pace. Holding the gun pointing skyward by her ear, her eyes scanned the empty area in front of her. When she came to the end, she went left, following the noise of a few more gunshots. She heard heavy breathing, the sound of feet hitting pavement in a wild run, and she stepped to the side. When the man came into view, she bashed him on the head with her gun, sending him sinking towards the ground knocked out cold. Not knowing how many of Falcone's men were laced within the maze of crates made her uneasy, but she knew she had little to fear. Batman certainly wasn't going to harm her, and Falcone's men thought they were on their side. She was in the perfect position, and the knowledge made her a little cocky in the situation.

Gunshots rang loose again before a man screamed, "Where are you!" The panic laced within his voice sent chills down her spine, and she knew without a doubt Batman _was_ in the area. So the costume had worked like it was supposed to – sending fear into the hearts of those who thought they had nothing to fear. Another cry, probably from the same men, let loose. Jane sped up her walk, almost running down the concrete, her boots providing traction and stability on the slick ground.

Jane then heard an obvious brawl, and stopped, trying to gauge the position of the scuffle. Once she felt she knew where it was coming from, she ran towards the loud noise of punches, kicks, and groans. She finally found it, careening to a halt, stumbling a bit as her body continued to try to move forward. Men were swarming around the black figure in the middle, guns going off randomly as they scuffled. They had no chance though, their bodies being punched, pulled, pushed, and thrown away from him as he deflected their attempts easily. Her eyebrows shot up, rather impressed at the scene unfolding before she stepped out of the way to dodge a man being thrown in her direction. When he landed, he moved to get up and Jane gave him a strong kick in the head.

Through the fight, she could see what appeared to be Falcone, obviously trying to gauge the situation as well. With wide eyes, he turned and fled back towards the limo. Jane cursed, knowing she couldn't catch up with him if she went the way she came in, and instead started moving forward, into the fight instead of around it. She pointed her gun at a man, intent on shooting him when the metal was ripped out of her hands. Snarling, she jerked her head and saw Batman hurling her gun behind her where it bounced off of the crates.

"No killing." He said. Turning back, he once again launched into an attack of a few more men that were still standing. Jane gritted her teeth, missing the feel of the weapon in her hands, and sent her annoyance in the form of a kick into a random man's groin. He cupped the area between his legs, going onto his knees. Jane turned, using the momentum of her body and swiped her leg across his cheek, her shin-bone giving him stars in his eyes as he fell to the wayside.

Her treasonous act seemed to alert a man that she was indeed _not _there to help them. His forearm wrapped around her throat, bringing her body up close to his. A typical, cliché man move. Rolling her eyes, she jammed the heel of her boot into the toe of his tennis shoes. The idiot didn't even wear the proper shoes for a fight. Her hands wrapped around one of his wrists, and she managed to pull it up to her mouth, sinking her teeth deeply into his skin. He howled in her ear, tugging his arm away and therefore releasing her from his grip. She spun around, punching him in the middle of his chest, causing him to back up a little. Jane saw the gun in his hands, him raising it to point directly at her. She dropped to the ground, swiping her right leg into a sweeping motion at his ankles. He was knocked down, and the gun went off from the jarring impact. The bullet went wild and pierced the arm of one of Falcone's men.

Straddling his chest, she knocked the gun away. Putting all of her weight onto her knees which dug into his forearms, she put her hand to his throat and squeezed. He couldn't move his wrist to hers or buck her off of him with her seat on his upper chest. He still thrashed around a bit, and she struggled to stay on top, trying to make herself weigh more to bolt him down. She registered his weakened attempts, the haziness of his eyes before they closed and she quickly removed her hand. She hadn't killed him, only made him pass out. Pushing off of his chest, she stood and turned to face Batman, who now rose alone against the numerous bodies around him.

The two watched each other for a moment. Her chest rose and fell with a hint of exertion, but he seemed unfazed. His gaze brought a little color to her cheeks, and she broke it by darting through the crates, heading towards Falcone. Behind her, she made out the rustle of his cape. She didn't know where he was going and nor did she care. Right now, Falcone had to be stopped before he escaped though it might already be too late. When she finally came into the clearing, she skidded to a stop, stumbling and falling onto the concrete ungracefully. Batman was already on top of the limo, punching through the sunroof and pulling Falcone's shivering body out of it by the lapels of his coat.

"I'm Batman." He said simply before head-butting Falcone. The body slackened, and he began pulling it out completely of the limo. His head lifted up, hearing something and Jane stood slowly, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. He was looking at a homeless man, appraising him as the man looked in shock at the figure. "Nice coat." And then he disappeared upwards, flying into the darkness of the sky, leaving the homeless man and Jane watching with slack-mouthed expressions.

She brushed the back of her pants off, feeling the ridge of the keys there, and took them out. Going back to the limo, she tossed them into the seat and fumbled around in the backseat for her cell phone. She found it, flipping it open. Immediately, she dialed Gordon. Jane reached underneath the seat to grab the photos she had stashed under there earlier. Putting them in her back pocket, she slid out and closed the car door.

"Gordon," she said when he answered. "Haven't spoken to you in quite some time. Listen, in about thirty minutes or so, I suggest you start making your way down here to the docks." Jane began walking back towards the truck filled with boxes of the drugs. "I have a very nice present waiting for you." With a smile, she shut the phone without waiting for a reply, chuckling a bit.

A few seconds after she closed the phone, Jane heard the rustling of Batman's cape behind her. She turned around. Sure enough there he stood, looking threatening with the cape swirling around him like in a movie. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the Ziploc bag with Faden's photos. They had a slight bend to them, the corner lifted up a little, but they were in good condition. Holding them out to him, she said, "I also found an email on Falcone's computer today from Faden. It was about an upcoming trial with someone who Falcone has an interest in. I hope it's enough."

Batman took it, his gloved fingers brushing up against hers momentarily. She dropped her hand back down by her side. "I also told Gordon to be here in about twenty minutes. So, if you're going to check over anything, you might as well do it now before they come in and have a chance to destroy evidence when Gordon's not looking." He nodded and tucked the photos into his belt. "I thought you weren't going to show up," she said with a small smile.

"I got a little held up. Thank you for the help and the leverage. We can still work together. After all, Crane's still around. If Gordon and Loeb turn back on their word, let me know, and I'll handle it." She smiled a little more broadly, a little more pleased with this than she had a right to be. Feeling like a little girl, she wiped it away.

Jane turned to look over her shoulder, tucking her hands into her pockets. "Well…I guess that's that."

* * *

The next day, Jane was walking into Arkham, her head held high, trying to appear as confident as possible. She was unsure of whether or not Crane would keep her here, and all night she had thought of ways that she could convince him to let her stay on. Jane needed to be here. She had to keep a close eye for Batman and especially Rebecca. Those two were counting on her, and she didn't want to let them down – especially Rebecca. Jane owed it to herself to help out the patients in Arkham. Sort of like a retribution for all the wrong she had done under Falcone's watch. It only felt right, to help restore a little bit of her humanity. She wasn't an evil person, and hopefully she could prove that to herself once everything was over.

She was buzzed through. Walking down the halls towards Crane's office, she didn't spot Eric or any other orderly. Eric hadn't contacted her after the day she went down into the basement. Not that she was worried or anything, but it seemed a little odd that he hadn't jumped at the chance to find out what was going on in Arkham. Hopefully, she would see him at some point during the day and tell him about what she saw. If she was still here, of course. That was still an uncertainty.

She didn't bother knocking on Crane's door as she walked in, acting as if everything was normal. Crane looked up from a medicinal dictionary, eyes behind the glasses reading as shocked when she plopped down on the chair and crossed her legs. She rested her hands on the arms of the chair, relaxing and becoming a picture of disinterested awareness. Trying to come off as if nothing had changed between them, she hoped to somehow psych out in order to play him like the instrument that he was. Closing the dictionary, he pushed it aside a bit. Crane leaned forward in his chair and placed his hands on the dark wood of the desk.

"I guess you heard about Falcone's mishap down at the docks last night." Jane said with a detached air, as if it had nothing to do with her. "All of the drugs are now in the hands of Gotham's police department. As well as Falcone himself, which poses a little problem for one such as myself. I've taken over the business until he buys himself out of prison, which hopefully, won't be too long from now. Since I was his second-in-command so to speak, I'm the only one who knows everything that's been going on. So, it's only logical that I take over for a short time."

His eyes narrowed a bit. "I see. You were at the docks last night, correct? It seems a little difficult to believe that a man like Falcone would get arrested but you wouldn't. Quite an odd situation you have here, Ms. Jane."

"Simple," she continued, unfazed by his inquiry, "the weather the night before made me sick. I was in bed the whole day and night. Which was why I also missed coming in yesterday as well. That night I called in to Falcone and said that, while I regretted it, I wasn't going to be able to function properly due to all the Nyquil I had," she chuckled. "He had placed someone else in charge of your half due to my absence, but I don't know who it was. I didn't get a chance to ask him about it."

Crane seemed satisfied with her answer, giving her a few nods as his eyes went back to his desk. Shifting through a small pile on the upper end, he pulled out a few folders and handed them to her. She reached across, taking them. "I'm going to perform an evaluation down at the courthouse for Ms. Dawes," her name was filled with loathing, and Jane resisted the urge to smile. Finally, she was glad someone else was getting up under his skin as well. "I expect to you to have these files gone over and marked - legibly this time – before I return." He moved to stand and went to the other side of the office. "I shouldn't be gone too long."

With that, he gave her a tight inclination of his head, and abruptly left the office. Once the door closed behind him, Jane let out a relieved sigh. He actually believed her. It had been a long shot, but somehow it worked. She flipped through the folders, but didn't see any names that she recognized. They must be normal patients and not his test groups. Sighing, she put them back down on the desk and looked back to the door. He was probably already out of the building and wouldn't come back. Standing, she walked over to the door and locked it. Going back to his desk, she sat down in the chair, and thought for a moment.

She began snooping around by opening up the top drawer. It was filled with pens, pencils, wipes for his glasses, and paper clips. Nothing exciting or incriminating. Shutting it, she began to open the other drawers one by one. They were all filled with the same loose papers with legal and medical jargon that she would never in a million years come to understand. She huffed, slamming the last drawer. If she were an insane doctor…where would she put something she didn't want others to see? Pressing her fingertips together, she bit her lip as her eyes roamed around the room, coming to rest on a yellow post-it note on the upper corner of the desk. Jane didn't remove it, knowing that she could ever put it in its exact spot. Reading it, she saw that it had an address scribbled on it.

She recognized the address as being deep in the Narrows, near the rougher streets. What would a man like Crane need in that part of town? The post-it also had a date and time scribbled on it, circled with red pen in reminder. With a frown, she pulled out her phone and typed the information in. Batman would probably want to know about this. A small smile played on the edge of her lips as she realized she was going to have to call him later and inform him about her new finding.

Jane put the phone back into her pocket, taking her work into her hands. She unlocked the door. Going into her office, she settled down into the seat and flipped the folders open, beginning to go about her work.

An hour and a half later, Crane strode back into the office. She was caught by surprise with the abrupt entrance. He gave her a small nod, and she heard the boring ring of a cellphone. When he realized it was his, he checked the number and sighed, flipping it open, pressing it to his ear. Jane went back to the file in front of her and jotted down a few more things. She snapped it closed as he murmured into the phone. Jane leaned into her seat and turned to look at him, watching as he frowned, closed the phone, and sighed tiredly.

"Come on. Your _friend_ Falcone has placed himself into a bit of trouble. I'm needed down at the jailhouse, I suppose you want to come as well?" He asked her expectantly, lifting his hand to adjust his glasses.

What had Falcone done this time? Certainly he was trying to go for the insanity plea. With a tight frown, she stood and grabbed her purse. "Sure. Let's go." Apprehension filled her. She hoped that Falcone or Crane didn't say anything that would expose her lie about taking over the family. Or she hoped that if Crane did bring it up, Falcone would go along with it. Falcone didn't know that Jane had betrayed him, not yet. He was still in the dark, and she prayed that it would stay that way.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Giving it a lot of thought, I've decided not to split TDK into two separate parts. It will be one nice-sized sequel. Just thought I'd throw that out there :)**

**WOW thanks for the reviews and praise! You guys make me blush so hard XD I try to reply to each and every review, but I just want to let you know again that I appreciate the kind words immensely. It inspires me to continue on and keep writing.**

**Sorry about the false alarm last night! I read through it and found a few errors that I needed to fix. Here it is-but there's probably some that I missed. Hope you enjoy! :) **

**(11:13 AM edit) So I locked myself out of my room and have my suitemate's key instead. This is very entertaining. All for you guys! :) That, and I'm fucking starving.**

* * *

The ride to the prison had been more than uncomfortable. Since she didn't have a car, Crane had told her to ride with him. Being in the tight, enclosed space with the man she had very well come to _hate_ made her skin itch. All she could see when she looked at him was Rebecca and the lab. Something strange was going on with the man. And she couldn't forget that while sitting a few mere inches from him in a too-quiet car driving clear across town. Jane had to admit that she hated going to the main part of Gotham anyway, preferring to stay in the darker streets of the Narrows. Being so out in the pen made her vastly uncomfortable, and she missed the security and comfort the ghetto provided. Which was strange, really, but she had seen – and done – far stranger things before.

When they got to the jail, Jane followed the doctor into the building, noticing his briskly set pace as she hurried to keep up with his long strides. At that moment, she felt very much like an intern. Or a dog. More like a dog, actually. Following its' master blindly, wagging her tail as she went. Scowling internally at the comparison, she quickened so that she walked _beside _him rather than _behind _him. Crane didn't notice this, seeming too wrapped up in his own thoughts to even notice her presence anymore.

The two went through the building, attracting the attention of several inmates in jail who made snide and suggestive comments to Jane. She ignored them, rolling her eyes. The comments were expected, seeing as how she was a woman in a predominately male prison. It shouldn't surprise her, and it didn't, filling her with disgust and contempt for them. They were ushered through a gated hallway without a word. Jane figured that since Crane visited the prison a lot, he didn't need to show identification and what not. So, neither did she. Down the hall, they were met by a pretty black woman.

"Dr. Crane, thanks for coming," she said with a bored, flat edge to her voice. She gave Jane a little glance before falling in to step beside Crane. He gave her a curt nod, something Jane realized he did quite a few times. In fact, a lot of men just gave nods. Was it some sort of requirement?

"He cut his wrists." Crane's remark caused Jane to have her suspicions confirmed. So, Falcone _was_ looking for the insanity plea after all. Not the smartest move to make on his account, but he was probably desperate to get out of the prison and back on the streets. Falcone had been at the top of the food chain when he wasn't locked up. Now, he was just another number. A prisoner. It probably drove him mad.

"Probably looking for the insanity plea." Well, _duh_, Jane thought. She didn't have a degree or job and she knew that right off the bat. "But, if anything should happen…"

Crane gave her a tight smile. "Of course. Better safe than sorry." They came to a door, the woman punching in a few numbers and a slight buzzing noise went off for a second. It opened, and Crane began to move inside, Jane following him when he turned abruptly, stopping her advance. "Jane. Stay here." Eyes narrowing at the order, she was about to tell him to kiss her ass when she stopped herself. She was already on thin ice here. Pushing him further wouldn't do her any good. Closing her mouth tightly, she stepped back, away from the door, and Crane disappeared into the room by himself.

Jane waited impatiently with the woman, straining her ears in an attempt to make out what was going on behind the door. It was useless, though. The thick concrete blocks absorbed any sound that might have a chance of being heard. With a sigh, she leaned against the wall, propping one foot up to balance her out, crossing her arms over her chest, and putting her head up against the cool bricks. Tugging her phone out of her purse, she figured she might as well text the information from Crane's desk to Batman while she waited.

After forwarding the message, she threw the phone back into the bag, not bothering to wait for a reply. Just when she thought Crane was going to be in there forever, he came out, the door opening and the sounds of Falcone's screams echoing throughout the hall. It caught a few people's attention, and Jane quickly pushed off the wall to go through the door to check on Falcone. Crane stopped her though, pushing her back a little and closing the door behind him. "Well, he's not faking." Crane said to the woman with a humorless smile. "Not that one. I'll talk to the judge to see if I can get him moved to the secure wing at Arkham. I can't treat him here." Shaking his head, he turned and left, latching on to Jane's arm.

He practically pulled her down the hall, his grip tighter than she expected. Jane squirmed against him, pulling her arm out of his grasp and scowled at him. "_Don't _do that again doc. Next time, you won't have a hand anymore. I'm not one of your patients." Crane gave her a dirty look, but continued on, his jaw tightened with annoyance and anger. With nothing to do but follow him, Jane gave one last glance over her shoulder to meet the woman's accusing glance. What had happened in that room to make Falcone suddenly go crazy?

* * *

Rain poured from the sky again. It was a little lighter than it had been a few days prior, but it was still unpleasant enough that Jane hailed a cab. If the weather had been more agreeable, she probably would have just taken the walk to Gordon's home. Walks, while a bit more dangerous even for someone like her, were refreshing. After spending her day cooped into a little office, she found that she enjoyed the fresh air the city provided. It wasn't something that she thought she would ever acknowledge. But even the polluted air of Gotham's Narrows was welcome in her lungs when put alongside the stuffiness of Arkham.

The cab driver didn't have to drive very far. Gordon, while still technically living outside of the Narrows, was rather close to it. If you were on the central bridge that stretched between the mainland and the shoddy "island", all you had to do was take a quick right and there he was. A small home with a fenced-in backyard. A cheap equivalent to an ordinary suburban home. Jane knew, though, that Crane didn't make much, given his meager salary at the police department, and Margaret herself…well, Jane didn't know what she did. Between their kids and the economy the way it was though, they had to have a tough time.

The taxi man pulled up to the curb closest to Gordon's home, and she passed him the small amount of money he charged, giving him a small tip as well. She got out, hulking slightly in her leather jacket as she walked towards the front door, boots kicking up rain and splattering the bottom of her dark denim jeans. Knocking on the door, she waited on the tiny porch until she heard footsteps. They were heavy, obviously belonging to Gordon, and the door opened. His face took on a look of surprise at her presence, and she smiled.

"Long time, no see, my friend." She spoke. Gordon's eyes immediately went behind her, and she shook her head slightly, rain droplets flying from her slightly damp hair. "Don't worry. I have nothing to worry about now that Falcone's in jail. May I…come in?"

"What?" Gordon's eyebrows scrunched together, his appearance funny yet kind at the same time, though clouded with confusion at her request. She wasn't surprised. Jane rarely made social calls to anyone, but she found herself missing Gordon's kind demeanor and relaxing presence. Her whole life basically had been given a good shaking out, and she desired to visit something familiar. Which had led her from her home and to Gordon.

"We've been working together for years, Gordon. I thought it'd be nice if I met your family now that I'm not placing anyone in perilous danger." She shrugged her shoulders. "You used to talk about them a lot, and I figured that –"

"Oh, oh, yes, of course. Please come in." He shifted to the side and allowed her to step into the dry. "Sorry, Jane. I'm becoming a bit old. I was just shocked to see you. After Falcone, I just assumed you'd stop coming by. Not that I wanted you to stop coming – that's not what I meant," he blabbered, taking her coat that she shucked off and hanging it on the coatrack in the corner beside the door. "It's just, well, you know, shock."

Jane had taken the chance to dress a little nicer. Her navy blue sweater fit nicely around her torso, a pretty green tank top underneath. The combat boots had been switched for normal ones with a small heel, and she actually had her hair down though it was a little wet from the rain. Having wanted to make a nice impression on Gordon's family, she had taken the time to put on a little make-up as well. Not much, just a little mascara and eyeliner.

"Gordon?" His wife called out, appearing at the end of the small hallway. Her eyes immediately went to Jane though they held no accusation as Jane walked towards her, stretching out her hand.

"Hello, Ms. Barbara. Gordon's told me so much about you," Jane gave her a charming smile. Barbara took her hand, shaking it firmly with a maternal smile on her pretty face. "I apologize for interrupting your dinner," she said, smelling the aroma of what seemed to be a pretty fucking great roast.

"Oh no, not at all Ms…?"

"Jane. Just Jane, please. I've worked with your husband for a little bit." About eight years, to be exact. "He's always raving about his kids and you, so I figured that I would come on over and meet you personally. Though, I guess I should have called first."

"Nonsense. Please, come in. We were just about to eat. Thankfully I cooked more than enough for all of us." Barbara took her by the hand and led her into the kitchen. A toddler girl sat in a high chair, giggling as a young boy stuck his tongue out at the child, though he immediately stopped once Gordon, Barbara, and Jane came into view. "Jimmy and Babs, here is Ms. Jane. She's a friend of your father's who will be joining us for dinner." The two children stared at her, and Jane gave an awkward little wave. She wasn't good at all with kids.

Barbara pulled her out a chair and Jane sat in it, soothing the legs of her jeans a little. Jimmy was sitting to her right, looking at her curiously which made her a bit nervous. Children always had that effect on her for some reason, and she turned her head to give him a tight smile. "Are you a cop, too? Like my dad?"

"I work with cops." Jane replied, not completely lying. What was she going to say? Actually, I worked for Falcone, you know – the mob guy who owns most of Gotham? But that changed when we were bringing in drugs and he was caught by Batman. That would certainly make an impression. Barbara set a place full of food and her mouth watered embarrassingly so. She couldn't cook worth a damn, and the memory of the last time she had a home-cooked meal that didn't involve something microwavable or was already premade was lost on her.

"Do you work with my dad a lot?" Jimmy tilted his chin up, his blonde hair falling in his eager eyes. Jane tucked her own hair behind her ear and smiled sweetly at him.

"I've worked with him some, yes." She replied, and realized that Margaret, too, was listening. It didn't bother her in the least. She would be suspicious of a girl like Jane if the roles were reversed. Not that Barbara suspected Gordon of infidelity or the like, but Jane was indeed a stranger in the Gordon home. To try to learn as much as possible about a visitor was a natural instinct. "But a lot? No, I'm afraid not."

"How old are you? You don't look very old."

"I'll be twenty-six soon," she propped her chin into her palm. "That's old enough for me. How old are you?"

"Ten. I'll be twelve in just two months. Mom, can Jane come to my birthday party?" The child turned to look at Barbara who set a plate overflowing with food in front of him.

Barbara smiled over at Jane before turning setting another plate in front of her. "It's Ms. Jane, Jimmy. Remember your manners, please. Sure, Ms. Jane can come to your party if she wants to. That's up to her though, not me."

Jimmy's head swirled back to her, looking at her the same blue eyes that Gordon had. "Please, Ms. Jane? Will you come to my party if I send you an invitation?"

It had been a long time since she had been to a birthday party, and the offer made her smile, which surprised her. Normally she tried to deter from children, but Jimmy seemed to be a sweet boy with intelligent eyes. They were eager, pleading with her. She almost laughed. Out of goodness, of course, not of disgust. Children were so trusting and innocent. Here she was, a murderer and a member of a mob without a leader, and the child seemed to already place all of his trust in her, befriending her so simply that it startled her.

"Sure Jimmy. I'll come to your birthday party. I expect an invitation, though," she teased, eliciting a broad smile from the boy.

After dinner was finished, Gordon moved to take out the trash when Jane stepped in front of him, taking it from his hands. "I'll get it. Please, it's the least I can do." She smiled, moving to the door.

"Jane, you're a guest." He protested but she waved him off, opening the door, and slipping out. The rain had completely stopped now. Opening the trash bin, she tossed the bag in. She allowed it to close and moved to go back into the house when the swirling shape of a cape in the light breeze caught her attention. Jane stopped, startled as she realized Batman was perched on a staircase leading to an apartment complex beside the fence. A quick glance back into the home caught Gordon's attention, and she shifted out of sight, walking a little closer to the masked man. The door opened, Jim appearing beside her. "Hey, what's –"Then, he looked up and saw Batman.

"A storm's coming." Batman said. Gordon looked between he and Jane in slight surprise. He obviously knew the two had become acquainted with each other, but Jane saw in his eyes that he was confused as to why he was there at his home. She shrugged her shoulders, telling him she was just as lost to the meeting as he was.

"Scum's getting jumpy since you stood up to Falcone." Gordon leaned up against a wooden pole, crossing his arms over his chest. Jane realized that the man was waifish in appearance, now that he didn't have his sports jacket on. His body was thin, lanky almost.

"It's a start. Your partner was at the docks with Falcone."

"Flass has worked with Falcone for quite a while. Not nearly as long as I have, but he was deep in Falcone's pockets. More so than most other cops I believe." She sneered, conjuring images of the disgusting detective. Gordon gave her an amused look, already knowing of her distaste in his partner.

He shrugged, looking back to Batman. "Well he moonlights as a low level enforcer."

"They were splitting the shipment in two. Only half went to the dealers."

"The other half was going to Crane," Jane finished. Gordon had started to object, and she had cut in before he asked the obvious question. "I was in charge of getting it to him." He still looked confused. Neither Jane nor Batman went any further with the knowledge. The information was dangerous at the moment, especially when they didn't exactly have hard evidence of what Crane was doing with his share of the drugs. They had strong suspicions, but had yet to obtain the evidence.

"Commissioner Loeb has assigned a task force to come after you. He thinks you're dangerous." Gordon scuffed his shoes on the pavement and Jane chuckled. Loeb thought anyone who didn't work directly under him was dangerous. Couldn't he see that Batman was on his side? He had – not single-handedly – handed everything he needed to put Falcone behind bars and he still wasn't happy.

"What do you think?" He inclined his head at Gordon who thought for a moment before shrugging.

"I think you're trying to help…but I've been wrong before." Gordon made eye contact with him before turning, shoving his hands deep into his pocket, and going back inside. Jane looked over her shoulder to watch him leave. She put her hands on her hips and swiveled around to look back to Batman.

"Something happened with Falcone earlier. I went to Crane today and convinced him to let me stay on. We were called over to the prison, and I learned that Falcone had cut his wrist in an attempt to plead for sanity. Of course, they had Crane do a psyche test or something psychological like that. What's funny is that when Crane came out of the room Falcone was screaming bloody murder. He obviously hadn't been acting that way before. The woman who called us down there seemed surprised as well at the immediate shift. I know Falcone. He's not…like that. He's probably hating prison life, but he's not crazy."

"Do you think Crane had something to do with it?"

"He most certainly did. At first, I thought that maybe it was all just an act. But Falcone? He's too full of pride to pretend to rant and rave like a lunatic. Yes, he cut his wrists on purpose, but he wouldn't go that far. You can tell the difference between a fake scream and a real scream. This one was raw. Terrifying, almost. As if he was genuinely afraid of something. He's perfectly sane. Sane people don't just snap in less than a minute without provocation. It was strange, surreal, and Crane was pissed about something when he left."

Jane began to walk up the stairs before planting herself by him. She brought her legs up close to her chest, resting her feet on the step below her. Leaning forward, her elbows sat atop her bent knees. "Something's definitely going on with Crane. I've been saying that for days now, and I keep trying to figure out what it is…It's just this nagging feeling that won't let up, you know?" She turned her head to the side to look at him. "It doesn't help that I have to be cordial to the bastard either. I know he has something to do with Rebecca and that lab. Just have to connect the dots between him, the drugs, the psychotic breaks, and scarecrow. I think it's a lot more than just experiments. He's got something big cooked up. Otherwise, why need a lab of that magnitude? If it was just a simple little dosage thing, he could make that in his apartment."

"We'll figure it out soon." Batman's cape fluttered as a stronger breeze whipped through, softly grazing her arm and side. "I think I'll take a look at Arkham myself tomorrow night. It's time that we start to really solve this."

Jane's eyes brightened and she turned her head to smile at him in glee. "And break out Rebecca? I don't think I can handle another day not knowing if she's still alive or not. I need to get her out of there, but I can't do it on my own."

"Of course." He replied. Jane felt utter happiness fill her as she realized that finally Rebecca would be released. Without thinking, she flung her arms around Batman, hugging him to her. The armor was pressing into her like a wall, and she felt his belt digging uncomfortably into her stomach. She didn't care though, her gratitude overwhelming her as she clutched to him.

"Thank you," she whispered, her chin resting on his shoulder. He didn't move away from her or to reciprocate the touch. Instead, he continued to sit still as a stone gargoyle like he did before. Jane wasn't bothered by this, not expecting him to return the hug. She broke away, not feeling ashamed of her show of affection in the least. "I guess this is repayment for all I have done for you?" Smirking, she moved to stand, brushing the back of her pants off and realizing with a scowl that they were wet from the wood. "Speaking of which, did you get those pictures to Dawes? Did she say they were okay?"

At the mention of the woman's name, something changed in his eyes. A flicker of something disappeared. She tried to catch the fleeting emotion, but failed to do so because of the speed in which it was instantly guarded. Batman stood, now towering high above her from his higher position the stairs as well as his taller height. Craning her neck slightly, she looked at him expectantly, awaiting an answer.

"Yes. I didn't tell her who gave me the photographs though."

Jane shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't expect you to." Twisting back around, she went back down the stairs and to the back door. A hasty glance to her right showed that Batman had already silently disappeared. Quickly hiding a smile, she stepped into Gordon's house, firmly shutting the door behind her and acted as if she hadn't just spoken to a vigilante dressed as a bat.

* * *

Jane was _not _in the mood for Crane today.

But, she drug herself out of bed nevertheless, shucking off the boxers and tank she slept in. Replacing those with a crisp black pantsuit, she fluffed her hair with her fingers. She rubbed on a bit of foundation and lip-gloss before finally deciding that was all she was going to do. On the way out, she slipped on a pair of low heels and grabbed her purse. She locked her door on the way out, and began the walk up to Arkham.

Eric was outside again, smoking a cigarette. A nasty habit that he and her father shared. When he saw Jane, instead of waiting by the door like he had before, he inclined his head over to the opposite side of the building. Over on that side there were no windows, no way that a nosy nurse or a particular doctor could see them. There were also no cameras, most of them being pointed towards the front door for surveillance. Jane gave him a cut nod and sped up to meet him there. Eric smelled of smoke and cologne and he stomped out the cigarette, immediately fishing out another one.

"How was it down in the basement? I'm sorry that I haven't been able to contact you. My sister just moved in with me and I've been helping her get her feet on the ground." He sighed, lighting the cigarette. "I told her Gotham wasn't a good place for her to be but _no_. When do women ever listen to men, right?"

Jane chuckled. "Don't worry about it. It's completely fine. I understand that you're busy. Working at a place like this tends to wipe out any sort of private life you may have. Especially when you're working under someone as ruthless as Crane. I haven't been to the gym in days and it's killing me."

"Kid, you need to gain a few pounds. Not lose them."

"I'm not there to lose weight, Eric. I work out to get strong. Have to beat off the thugs and all that," she winked at him, erupting into laughter. It was so easy to be friends with someone like Eric. She knew nothing about him but found that she enjoyed his company immensely. More than she enjoyed any other company she shared. The exceptions being Gordon and Batman, of course. Shaking her head, she stepped closer so that she could lower her voice and still be heard. "The basement has a laboratory-looking thing in it. I'm not for sure yet, but I am fairly positive that Crane is mixing drugs down there. What's worse is I found Rebecca down there."

Eric's face scrunched up in confusion, eyebrow furrowing as he took another long drag. "Rebecca James? I thought she had been moved somewhere further upstate. That's what the nurses are telling everyone. I tried to check in on her the other day but they wouldn't even let me pull a copy of her file. Are you sure that's who you saw?"

"Definitely. She's really fucked up, Eric. I would have brought her out but…I couldn't risk someone knowing that I was down there. I still feel horrible about that," she sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, frowning deeply. "But I'm going to get her out of there. Me and my stupid sense of self-preservation."

"If you had gotten her out of there you would have been seen. Don't be too hard on yourself. Damn, Rebecca's been down there? How was she?"

"Not good at all, I'm afraid. She's heavily drugged. Always talking about scarecrow. Fuck, I wish I knew what that meant. It has to mean something, right? Why would all the patients hallucinate the same thing? Crane's got to be doing something down there and giving them all the same drugs. It's the only thing that makes sense in this fucked up place."

"Hey, listen," Eric threw the cigarette on the ground. Placing his hands firmly on top of her shoulders, he lowered his head to be eye-level with her. "You need to focus on making sure Crane doesn't find out about you. If he knows that you know what's going on, he won't hesitate to hurt you, too. I know that you'll just ignore me if I tell you to quit, but you need to be extremely careful. Crane's dangerous. Extremely. Sometimes, there's nothing wrong with placing yourself above others."

"I've been doing that my whole life, Eric. I'm tired of being selfish. These people can't do anything about their situation. It's my responsibility to help them."

"No it's not. You don't owe them anything."

"I owe it to myself. If I run away now, I'll never be able to look in the mirror. It's hard for me to explain. I'm not who you think I am. I need to help them so I can prove to myself that I'm not a selfish person. That I can do more to help this city be a better place. I have that power now, and I need to use it as best as I can. It's the best thing."

Pulling herself out of his grip, she walked to the building. Eric stayed behind, probably smoking yet another cigarette. Jane couldn't blame him for not grasping what she was trying to get across. He didn't know her. Didn't know all of the things that she had done before. This was a chance to help herself feel better about some of the rotten shit she had done with her life.

The halls were quiet, the sound of her heels clicking against the tiled linoleum floor as she went to Crane's office. Tossing her bag onto her desk, she opened the door that divided her and Crane, stepping in. Immediately, she sensed that something was…off. It didn't feel right for some reason. Her instincts screamed at her to leave as soon as she can, but she froze in spot at the door, glancing around the empty room as and took a hesitant step forward. The air seemed tense, thick with something that she couldn't place. Frowning, she turned her head to the side, swiping it clean with her eyes.

Maybe she was just being paranoid…Turning back around, her eyes widened as Crane lurched at her, his hand grabbing her chin in a strong grip, the other holding her wrists. While she was still stunned, he turned the two around and slammed her up against the wall. Pressing his body up against hers he prohibited any movement that she might have made. Jane scowled, struggling against him, but the doctor was much stronger than he looked under his suit. He sneered in her face, squeezing her jaw tightly in his ironclad grip as he shoved her wrists above her head, shackling them.

"Crane," she spat, twisting her body. "Let me _go_." His eyes were livid – furious. Just like hers. He seemed like a whole different person before her, all rage and loathing evident in his eyes. This… this wasn't _Crane_ she realized, taking in the darkened eyes. There was a flash of cockiness in there that normally wasn't, and the smirk that played on the left corner of his lips certainly didn't contain a trace of the normally calm and collected psychologist.

"Crane's not here at the moment," he smiled though it lacked warmth and tenderness. Even his voice was different, rougher and lower. Huskier. He really _was_ someone else right now. The man holding her was Crane yet at the same time wasn't. Her mind screamed in confusion as she bucked her hips to gain a little space between them. She didn't like the way his body pressed to hers, didn't like the contact. It revolted her and he saw it clearly, laughing in her face. "What's wrong, Jane? I thought you _wanted_ me."

"I could never want you." Jane tugged at her hands, desperate to push him away. He leaned in closely now, his full lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below her ear. His fingers dug into her cheeks uncomfortably and she tried to turn her head away from him as he slowly slid over to her lips, pressing his own against hers roughly. Clamping her jaw shut, she tried not to shiver or gag as he caressed her bottom lip with his tongue, trying to tease her into opening her mouth and allowing him entrance.

He parted her knees with his, placing her hip directly at her center, grinding into her disgustingly. "Come on Jane. _Play _nicely. I know you've been snooping around. Did you think that would go unpunished? I don't _let _anyone go into the basement and see what's going on without payment." His breath washed over her wet lips. She turned her head to the side and he lowered his face to the crook of her neck that was now exposed, stretched out, for him. The hand that was on her cheeks fell away, scaling down to her breasts. He squeezed her right one hard in his grasp, bringing a gasp out of her as she once again tried to tug her arms down. Jane struggled futilely against him, trapped between his body and the wall.

"Just give in, Jane. I can make it worth your while." Crane snickered against her skin before gliding his hand from her breast over her flat stomach and to her center. He shoved his hands down the front of her slacks, into her underwear and groped her uncomfortably there. She squirmed harder this time, desperate to get away. She wouldn't let this happen. This _couldn't _happen. "See. Here you are, trying to get friction." He teased and leaned up. His face was inches from hers and he moved to kiss her again. She parted her lips this time, and feeling him smile against her, she snagged his lip between her teeth, biting down with as much pressure as she possible could.

The hand down her pants shot out, grabbing her neck and pushing her back up against the wall as he pried his lip from her. With a snarling rage, he wiped the blood off and glared at her. His hand raised and backhanded her across the cheek before he completely pushed her down. Jane fell to the floor, her head bashing against the wood and she blacked out for a moment from the impact. Crane took the chance and rolled her over onto her stomach.

He laced his hands around her stomach, hauling her up onto her knees and then slammed her back against his chest. She moved to elbow him, but he grasped her hand, pushing it back to her chest. He grabbed her other wrist and placed it on her shoulder, one of his arms crossing across her chest to hold her up against him tightly. "_That _was a bad thing to do." He growled against her throat.

And for the first time, Jane shivered in actual fright.

* * *

**Edit: I would also like to state, before I get more angry PMs, that not everyone is strong all the time. Jane has been caught off guard by Crane and his alter ego - Scarecrow - who is stronger both mentally AND physically than Crane. I understand the critiques but have yet to comprehend why she is called a Mary-Sue. Understand that this situation has happened for reasons of character development and plot movement. It's difficult for me to write Jane as being in this difficult moment but it MUST HAPPEN. It will help her grow as a person and will help her come to terms with other things in the future.**

**After all, some one the strongest things need to be broken at some point. And things will be explained more in the next chapter as to why Scarecrow is acting the way he is. Believe me, it's not because he think she's a babe or anything.**

**Looking forward to reading the reviews! :D Hope you all have an awesome day and I hope to be back in my room after my next class. I hate Macbooks. How do you work this thing?**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Here's the chapter! :) Thanks for all the reviews, PMs, favorites, and follows! You guys make me so happy it's not even funny.**

**Update: The sequel is making me super excited. It took a turn that I was NOT expecting but love. I have a feeling you guys are going to love it too :D I'm wrapping up chapter three tonight and will start the fourth tomorrow. That writing may be a little sporadic because I have a mega huge essay to turn in on Oct. 12 and, you know, school is number one. Unfortunately. **

**I'm publishing this earlier than scheduled just because I'm not going to be around a computer much tomorrow. And, it's better to go ahead and post it early than late, right? This chapter was immensely difficult to write but things that were left unexplained in the last chapter are addressed here. **

* * *

Bruce Wayne blinked against the light pouring in through the now-open curtain. Alfred smirked at him, holding the edge of the drape in his hand, not ashamed to admit that he had resorted to unpleasant ways in order to wake the billionaire. Bruce groaned loudly, rolling away from the light source. Pulling a pillow over his head, he murmured something incoherently, a statement even he couldn't understand, which brought forth a quiet chuckle from the old butler.

"Time to wake up, Master Wayne," he spoke cheerily. It always seemed to amuse him to wake Bruce in a manner such as this. He dusted off his shoulder and moved to stand close to the bed. Fondly, he looked down at the young man stretched out shirtless underneath the bed sheets. No matter how old the Wayne heir would get, he would always be that little boy he had taken in and raised. "It's nearly two in the afternoon, and your presence has been requested down at the board meeting."

Bruce sighed, but stretched out on his stomach before pulling the pillow off and throwing it to the wall. Flipping onto his back, he rubbed his eyes with his palms, looking up at the butler with sleepy, confused eyes. "They never want me down there, Alfred. I know you're just trying to wake me up now." Nonetheless, despite his irritation at having being woken, he cracked a smile. Beside the bed sat a silver tray with his special protein shake and pancakes. Bruce reached immediately for the green drink, tossing it back quickly in order to gulp down the disgusting flavor as hurriedly as possible. Though it gave him a bitter taste, he knew the tip was to treat it like a Band-Aid: just hurry up and get it over with.

"Well, maybe I stretched the truth only a tad bit" Alfred blubbered, clasping his hands behind his back in a dignified fashion. "What I meant was: A Mr. Fox called and said that it was probably important that you come today. He has something of note that you would probably like to know about."

Standing, Bruce stretched his arms high over his head, working the soreness out of his muscles and jerking his head to the side to crack it. Instantly, the tension was released, and he rolled his back a bit before falling to the ground, catching himself, and doing a number of push-ups.

Alfred took in the large purplish and blue bruises that sporadically decorated his skin and frowned tightly in disapproval. "You should be careful, Master Wayne. As I said before, bruises and wounds like that are going to be rather difficult for a simple-minded playboy like yourself to understand. Charm and family name will only carry you so far. If anyone were to catch sight of those…just imagine the rumors that would spurn. Tabloids do have very vivid imaginations."

Bruce laughed at Alfred's uncomfortable demeanor on the subject. "It'd make a good story, though. Probably save me a lot of wasteful energy spent acting like an idiotic oaf. Bruce Wayne into S&M. I wonder what sort of titles they'll use?" Alfred sputtered a bit, and Bruce smiled, speeding up as he continued his exercise. Sleepiness had faded him now, replaced by his abundant energy that wasn't nearly expended during his nightlife. Counting under his breath, he reached a good number, surpassing his week's goal, and stood. He was shirtless, the sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and he made his way to the master bathroom. Stripping, he stepped into the shower, the hot water scalding his skin in a relaxing manner.

Not too long after, Bruce was dressed in a charcoal grey suit, his hair styled out of his face, and the soreness in his muscles nearly forgotten. He disregarded the breakfast Alfred had laid out, opting instead to grab something on the way to the office that was more time appropriate than pancakes. He drove his second favorite vehicle – the black sports car he had given Jane a lift in a few nights ago .

At the memory of Jane, Bruce found himself lingering a bit on her face. When he had hugged her last night, Bruce had been taken aback, surprised at the act. At first, the young woman had been standoffish, defensive, seeming to hate him. He would too if he were being blackmailed the way he had done to her. Now, though, it seemed that she had warmed up to Batman. She saw him as more of an ally now instead of a boss. An equal, not a superior. Her guard had been relaxing ever so slowly, and now he almost found himself far too comfortable in her presence. Having nearly slipped once, he wasn't fond of doing it again. His identity was one that only two people knew. Well, one person knew and the other sort of knew.

It wasn't that he distrusted Jane. He trusted her, very much so. Especially after witnessing her turning against Falcone's men, subduing them with a slight ease and gracefulness yet a hardiness that he admired. She was tough. He knew that deep inside, however, she held a soft spot. One that he had seen on several different occasions now. Once, when she chose not to kill him, giving her advice. He had been so dumb back then, thinking he could just waltz up to Falcone. She had been younger than him then, yet she was far wiser. Even at that time he noticed that she held the mind power and keen intellect of someone older than her scant years.

Also, she seemed to be protective of Rachel. Countless times she had instructed him to watch over her carefully. Bruce had been doing that anyway, but the request – order - still stunned him. Rachel did have a very captivating demeanor, and she usually got in over her head without noticing it. But Jane looking out for her was still a little odd in his opinion. He knew the two women hadn't met on friendly terms from when he watched them at the courthouse the day Mr. Zsaz was in court. In the same way, she also held a soft spot for Gordon. Batman had found her outside his house – visiting his family - after all.

Jane also worried extensively over Rebecca and the other patients at the asylum. When he noticed how determined she was at rescuing Rebecca, he assumed the two had once been friends, or were perhaps even relatives. But as Jane spoke more about her, he realized that no, they had not been acquaintances prior to discovering her down in the basement. When he said he would get the girl out, Jane's whole face lit up. She had hugged him. Never would he have guessed she would show that much emotion. Perhaps now that she wasn't tight on Falcone's leash, she relaxed a little. She didn't have to worry about being watched and could sink into a semi-normal life.

Whipping into a parking space, he exited the vehicle and locked it, shoving his pants into his pockets as he walked to the front entrance. Secretaries nearly fell over themselves as they greeted him, and he gave them each a nod as they welcomed him into the building. A few offered to take him up to the meeting room, but he waved them away. Slightly annoyed, he told himself this was for Alfred. So, he accepted one lady's offer – a beautiful red-haired woman with a bit too much cleavage.

"Mr. Wayne, I just want to say how much of an honor it is to work for you," the woman smiled toothily, trying to appear seductive. It might work, if he was into redheads with their breasts practically pouring out of her tight top. "And I'm here to do whatever sort of job I need to in order to make your company rise."

Bruce smirked down at her. He was amused at her antics, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I'll keep that in mind." Standing up, he noticed her face was flushed slightly, her smile broader. He knew she couldn't resist not telling everyone else downstairs and hoped that she would exaggerate. It would undoubtedly help the playboy persona he and Alfred had decided on. Bruce didn't really care what the people of Gotham cared about him, so it didn't bother him much the tabloids that circulated about his trysts with numerous models, actresses, and heiresses. It amused him, actually. He didn't sleep with any of the women, but a little flirtation to keep the image up didn't hurt anyone.

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open, and Bruce stepped out. The woman made a motion to follow, but he inclined his head in a good-bye. She slunk back into it, pouting disappointedly. A quirky smile on his lips, he arranged his expression into disinterest that he noticed Jane mastered rather well. With his hands in his pockets, he walked towards the meeting room, opening the door and sauntering in as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The meeting had obviously just finished up, board members standing around and chatting animatedly to each other, giving him smiles as he went over to Fox.

* * *

Jane groaned loudly as she rolled over. The position was uncomfortable, her elbows pressing into the tender area of her stomach. Another groan escaped her and she pushed herself back onto her back. Why weren't her hands cooperating? What sort of weird position was she in? Opening her eyes, she almost thought that she was still asleep, for all she saw was pitch black darkness. Blinking, she realized that she was indeed awake, but the lights in whatever room she was in were out, leaving her in complete blackness. Jane tried to move her arms. With a panicked jerk, she sat up and tugged at them. They were held down to her chest, and when she moved her hands and fingers, she realized that she was in a fucking straightjacket.

"Rebecca," she hissed instantly, figuring that she was in the basement. "_Rebecca_." No answer. Blindly, Jane tried ungainly to get onto her feet. After a few failed attempts, she had a new appreciation for arms when she finally stood upright, gasping a bit from the harder-than-it-seemed-to-be movements. The unknown area around her sort of scared her. At first, she didn't know if she should try to walk around the room to gauge her surrounds.

Figuring that her need to know what kind of situation she was in outweighed her hesitation, she began to slowly walk forward. She stood on one leg, swiping the other leg in the area in front of her so she didn't run into anything. Then, she stepped forward and repeated the process. It was painfully slow, but she finally managed to reach one wall. She turned to her left and began the procedure again, counting the number of steps she took. After what seemed like forever, she gauged that she was back at the starting position and sank down the wall. There was nothing on the other walls, so the room was probably empty. It seemed that whoever had dumped her into the room placed her roughly in the center.

She banged her head against the wall, wincing a bit as it pounded in consequence. Crane was officially her mortal enemy. Whenever she got out of this straightjacket and room, she would bash his head up against the concrete wall until his brains began sliding out. He hadn't raped her - that much she was sure of. Somehow, he sedated her and got her in here. Whether he was going to come back and finish what he had started was beyond her, and she forced the thought out of her mind as quickly as it came. It wouldn't do her any good to think about that, not now.

Slumping a little more, she let go to the gravity and sank further onto the floor, the bare skin of her legs scratching against the concrete. She was nearly naked, clad in only the straightjacket and her underwear. The air was chilly and she shivered a little as the skin came into full contact with the floor. Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling and focus on getting out of the room. Or at least figure out where she was.

Obviously, she wasn't with Rebecca. Nor was she with Crane. Her ears didn't register the sound of anyone else's breaths or movements but her own, and in her trip around the short expanse of the room turned up no evidence of chairs or bodies. She was alone. Probably in the basement in one of the rooms she hadn't checked. She hadn't felt any light switches so she assumed that there was a string in the center to turn the light on.

With a sigh, she moved into a better position. Her legs crossed at the ankles and full back pressed against the wall, Jane sunk further against the strong, hard wall behind her fully and huffed in agitation. She had nothing to do but wait. Wait for what - she didn't know and that bothered her more than the cold did. Hair falling around her face in a mass of chaos, she tried to toss her head to the side to get it out of her way. It was bothersome, but she had other things to worry about. Like figuring out a way to overpower whoever came into the door. She knew someone would come. Crane wouldn't just leave her here. He would want to torture her somehow, rub it in her face that he had caught onto her little game. This side of him was arrogant in that sense, more so than his normal demeanor, and she had always thought his head was far too big for his body even before now.

Jane knew that she didn't have much of a good chance of gaining an upper hand when it came down to it. She couldn't use her arms, and her legs were useless without the balance and support her arms provided her. Not being able to push off any advances made her extremely uncomfortable, and she dreaded the coming confrontation. It wouldn't be pretty. She supposed she could try to outwit whoever fetched her, but the idea was almost laughable and was discarded immediately. Crane knew her. He wouldn't send in an ordinary dunce. A fool, he was not.

The fact that Crane had made tried to make her as uncomfortable as possible gave her a sense of satisfaction. He considered her a threat. A big one, obviously. He wouldn't have taken her clothes and tied her up if he didn't think her intimidating in a sense. In a way, it made a smile spread across her face. In another, it made her uneasy because now she didn't have a chance of escaping. But all she had to do was hold out for the night. Batman was coming to get Rebecca. He could find her, too.

Batman.

The name and figure that formed in her mind gave her hope and made her chest swell with anticipation. That's right, her friend _was_ coming. All she had to do was survive a few more hours and then she would be safe. Of course, there was the obstacle that he didn't know she was down here. Jane didn't even know what room she was in, and he wasn't looking for her. Only Rebecca. He would certainly see something was wrong once she didn't contact him or show up for the break-in, but whether he would piece together that she was here as well wasn't very comforting.

She had only one option. Jane would have to trick Crane to take her out of the room. She may have to piss him off somehow, but whatever way she could, she had to get out of the concrete hold. Grimacing a bit, she tried to prepare herself for all the possible outcomes of her situation when the door pushed open. Light fell on her legs to her right, but the rest of her body remained in the shadows. Squinting her eyes against the light from the hallway, she saw that the figure belonged to Crane. It was easy to identify, the long and lean form of a man clad in a suit.

"Are you comfortable, Jane?" He taunted and she could hear the smile in his voice. Her stomach heaved in revulsion, sneering, she tucked her legs underneath her. "I gave you the best accommodations that I could with the resources and time I had." Crane stepped in, the tiny heels of his dress shoes echoing against the concrete as he stopped right in front of her. Kneeling down, he sat back on his heels and looked down at her.

The light illumined one side of his face, the other in complete darkness giving an eerie look. He didn't wear the glasses, and the startlingly blue gaze of his eyes bore into her, the one that she could see alight with a sickening desire and a wild flame of something sinister. Jane sat as tall as she could in her position, and bared her teeth at him in an animalistic fashion. "Fuck off, Crane."

He chuckled, bemused at her attempt, before his hand launched out, grasping onto her neck and hauling her a little higher on the wall. Jane's head and throat were pushed against the unforgiving surface, breath supply cut out as she gaped her mouth open for air that was blocked on the path to her lungs. "How…charming you are," Crane observed as he tilted his head to the side a bit to look at her. His eyes trailed down the curve of her neck, the straightjacket, and then the exposed pale skin of her thighs. Grip lightening a bit, he let her suck in a deep breath before squeezing again, gaining a muffled cough from her. "But we always knew you were charming you little _slut_."

Crane let go of her neck, and Jane's body sank back to the ground as she coughed and spluttered, the coolness of the stale air welcome in her lungs as she breathed in raggedly. "Fuck…_you_," she hissed. Jane had to get him pissed off. Maybe he would take her out of the room and into somewhere Batman would see her. "You're just mad because I outsmarted you, Crane. That's it. I figured out your game and you hate that."

A rumbling chuckle echoed throughout the room and he tossed his head back in laughter. "You know nothing, Jane. Nothing at all. You may think you know something, but when it comes down to it you don't have a fucking clue of what I'm doing here." Crane grabbed her arms, pulled her from the wall, and slammed her against the floor. Her neck had strained in anticipation of the move, so her head didn't bounce on the floor at the rough treatment. Arms yearning to rip free of the confines, she twisted her body to the side and lay on her stomach, struggling to move away from him and towards the door. On her knees, she pushed and grit her teeth in a pathetic attempt to escape.

Crane's firm hands grasped her hips, and dragged her back towards him. Jane bit back a cry of pain as her skin scraped against the floor. Her head lay back down on the ground in defeat, but she tried to move her hips from his unwelcome grip. Crane flipped her over easily, as if he were cooking with a pan. Her back was pressed into the ground, and she yanked her head sharply to the side so she was staring into the dark space and not in his eyes.

He pulled her a bit closer, working in between her legs so they fell on either side of his waist. Since he didn't have to hold her arms down, Crane leaned over her, brushing his nose along her jawline up to her ear. The cold breath that blew against her skin caused her to wince to the side. "What is it you fear, Jane? I think I know," he whispered into her ear. "When you're not in your delectable little skirts, you wear men's clothes. _Men's _clothes. You haven't had sex in quite some time. Am I right? How long as it been since you've been properly fucked? A year? Maybe two? Or more? Probably more." He chuckled and moved away from her ear. He put one hand on her chin and tilted her head so that she was forced to make eye contact with him.

"You try to shove away anything that makes you a woman. You want to be taken seriously as a criminal, and you can't do that as a woman , now can you? How does it feel, Jane? To have all of these pathetic men's eyes on you…they want to fuck you good and hard. The thing that scares you is that you know they could do it, too. If it weren't for Falcone's protection, you'd be a little whore. Someone's little slut. And _that_ closeness of sex makes you uncomfortable."

Jane jerked her head away, desperate to break the eye contact in fear he would see the tears in her eyes when he gripped her harder, forcing her to keep put. "Hit a note there, didn't I? You don't like affection. Not like that. You fear letting someone get that close to you. Or close to you at all, no matter what. That's the _real_ reason you don't let anyone into your pants. My, my, my. Little tough Jane, frightened at the idea of fucking."

"Fuck off." She repeated herself shakily. This gave him all the confirmation he needed, and he smiled sinisterly. He won. Damn it, he had fucking _won._ Crane let go of her chin, leaning up so he was sitting on his calves and removed his jacket, tossing it to the floor. Her eyes grew wide and she tried to scoot back away from him as he slid down the zipper of his pants.

No. No. _No. _

Crane went back onto his hands. One grasped the bottom of her straightjacket and he yanked her back down. The other hand went to her underwear, ripping the fabric off of her and leaving her bare. Crane smiled down at her, smirking and his eyes trailed on her center. "Never took you to be bare. I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised." Her skin crawled at his satisfaction and the feeling of his eyes on her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, stomach twisting in sickness as his fingers brushed along the skin of her hips. "Relax, Jane," he teased, slapping her across the face. "You might enjoy this."

"Fuck you, Crane." She bit back. His hand reappeared on her jaw, bringing her torso off of the ground and lifting her to look at him directly.

"On the contrary, I'm going to fuck _you_." Throwing her back down, he pried her thighs back apart and placed her legs around his hips. Leaning forward, he pressed his waist on hers, prohibiting any kicking that she could do. She felt him along her inner thigh, and she closed her eyes again, attempting to swallow the tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks.

Sex had always been something Jane never found any joy in. For some unknown reason, she never understood the point of sexual intimacy. Her past experiences were limited and rather embarrassing which led her to give up on them altogether. It worried her that Crane had picked up on his, as well as her adamant rejection of allowing anyone close enough to her. Even Falcone didn't know who she was inside, her fears and dreams. No one really knew her. She had wanted it to stay that way.

Physical intimacy was extremely too far out of her comfort zone. It involved too much trust, too much care for the other person for her liking. As Crane laced his fingers around her thighs, Jane yearned to move as far away from him as possible. He was invading her space, taking something from her that wasn't rightfully his to begin with. Sex wasn't something random for her, something that she could just get over quickly. She didn't want this… Not this. Not from someone like him who would only get off on her pain.

His fingers were sheathed inside her roughly and Jane cried out. Her legs snapped around his waist, trying to push out the object that was causing her so much pain. Crane laughed at her, withdrawing his fingers only to shove them back in. His nails scraped her inner walls and tears came to her eyes as he raked them over the sensitive flesh. She knew it would only get worse. Why did she have to get into things that didn't need her attention? Why hadn't she listened to everyone's warnings and stayed away from Crane?

"How does it feel, Jane?" He taunted her, staring down at her face as she screwed her eyes closed tight. Jane seemed to think that if she could block him out enough that everything would stop. Her skin crawled as he breathed over it, touching it with his other hand as his other continued it's terrible movements inside her. "Scream for me."

"No." She forced out. "I'm not going to scream." He wasn't going to win. He could do whatever he wanted but he would _not win._ She was going to fight him every step of the way.

He chuckled at her attempts to fight back and withdrew his hand. Positioning himself at her entrance, he leaned down to press his lips to the shell of her ear. "I'm going to make you scream. You'll be nothing but a broken mess when I'm finished with you."

Crane flexed, pushing into her hard and Jane screeched at the pain. She wasn't ready for him, dry and tense even though she could feel the wetness of blood. He smiled at her obvious displeasure, only able to go partway in due to how unprepared she was. Jane felt him draw back and push forward again. She gnashed her teeth together, desperate to keep her emotions at bay as he continued his assault on her lower body. Jane could feel the slickness from blood as her inner walls tore even more from his rough probing, the feeling of being ripped in half invading her senses.

It felt as if she were being knifed down there. Every thrust, every grind added more and more to the dreadful pain. She clenched her teeth shut, her jaw sore as she bit down to stop screams from coming out. He grunted above her in pleasure. Jane felt his hand on her jaw, the squeeze of his hand as he shook her head. "_Look into my eyes when I fuck you, whore._" Slowly, she peeled them back, meeting his disgusting gaze. He smiled, never breaking eye contact as his pace increased, hips wild and frantic against her unmoving ones. His stare was unmistakably lustful and proud on her face, drinking in her humiliation and fear that showed clearly though her eyes. She wanted to look away, wanted to scream and cry as he pounded into her unwelcomingly. But she couldn't. All she could do was attempt to muster up the measly strength and glare back.

"Fuck, you're tight. It has been a while since you've been _fucked_. How does it feel, Jane?" He leered down at her, his cock throbbing inside her. He was close, she knew it. She could feel it. Biting the inside of her cheek, she held in the screech as he squeezed her throat, digging into the tender skin. She still hadn't screamed yet.

Crane withdrew completely then jammed back into her harder than ever before. He went in too deeply, too quickly, and Jane couldn't stop the blood curling scream that erupted from her as her back arched off the floor. She regretted it instantly and flopped back down on the floor with fresh tears in her eyes. He had won. Crane had managed to get her to scream, much like he had promised.

With one last moan, he came inside her, hurting her even more as his hips bucked sporadically into hers with the force of his orgasm. His eyes closed, head hung lowly as he took in a breath. Sweat glistened on his forehead. Jane closed her own eyes, swallowing thickly as pain coursed all around her, focused on her private parts that had been ravaged greedily.

Crane sighed. Pulling out, he zipped his pants back up. He leaned back to sit on his heels again, looking down at her form with satisfied eyes as she crumbled before him. When he saw that one tear escape the corner of her eye, he smiled, knowing that he won. He broke her down, exposing her fear and then launching to take advantage of it.

With a grimace, Jane moved her legs from either side of his body. They were stiff from being squeezed tightly, and she folded her knees up so that she could contain her modesty with a slight hiss. Her inner thighs were sick with her blood and his seed, stomach quaking as her body shivered. She felt so used and pathetic, helpless against his attack. Weak – that was what she was. She all the more hated Crane and at the same time herself for getting into the situation. She curled into as much of a ball as she could, rolling onto her side. A few more tears escaped her, but her jaw remained clamped shut. Mainly for herself rather than for him.

"You were a good little fuck, Jane." His voice dripped in pride at his victory. He stood then bent down to grab her shoulders, hauling her up into a shaky stance. "Let's go see if the other men want a try." Jane's eyes flew open at his words, shocked and more than frightened at the prospect of getting raped again. He smiled at the fear, drinking it in. Whirling her around, he pushed her forward. She stumbled over her own feet, trying to stay in the room.

At her protest, Crane rolled his eyes, pushing her harder so that she was forced out of the room. Jane was in pain, bending over as her legs and center screamed in agony. Blood still trickled down her legs, slick and sticky on her skin. He laughed behind her, his hand a steady touch against her back. She cried out as she fell, not able to catch herself due to the straightjacket, and she skid across the floor a little. The ground tore at her face, throat, and legs, ripping some of it away. Jane lay on the floor, panting and trying not to cry at the pain.

The doctor sighed, shaking his head at her. "You should be more careful." He bent and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder and began walking forward again. Crane kicked open a set of doors, and Jane knew that they were in the huge lab room. He threw her onto a table urgently, and she scurried up the length of the metal and brought her legs up, away from the leering eyes of the rather startled men that had now turned to look at her. Their eyes were both confused and yearning, Jane being the first half-naked woman they had seen in a long time.

"Go to hell, Crane." Jane fired hotly, huddling together. He sneered, grasping onto one of her ankles and yanking one of her legs down and over, exposing her bleeding apex to the men's eyes. "Stop! Stop this!" She pleaded. Jane tried to pull her leg back, but he wouldn't let go, giving her a sick smile as he spread her open a little further.

"Now, who's second, gentleman?" He said, not breaking eye contact with her. Jane could feel her fear in her eyes, and knew that he was loving every second of this, seeing her cower away from him, actually begging, groveling before him as she cried. "I've already had a go, but she's still good for everyone to have at least a turn."

"Please," she pleaded once last time, eyes frantic as she tried to pull her leg back again and again. "Please, just _stop_." She was fully sobbing now, not wanting the horror of being ravaged by every man in the room. There was nothing she could do to stop it. No one she could count on to save her. She was alone.

"Big mistake, Crane." A voice grumbled. Jane's heart surged at the familiarity of the tone, head flying up as Crane turned to try to spot who had spoken. Batman dropped from the ceiling, landing directly beside Crane to land a punch on the doctor who fell to the side, grabbing onto one of the men for support as he clutched his reddening cheek. Her leg was freed, and she immediately brought it to her chest. Guards began firing randomly, their bullets not penetrating his suit as he bent to scoop her up in his arms. With one hand, he grasped onto her and with the other he pointed towards the ceiling. The ground dropped beneath them, gunshots echoing all around Jane as she let her head fall against his shoulder.

Batman went underneath a ledge at the ceiling, swooping through a large air vent before kicking open a side and rolling. Jane couldn't grab onto him, and the jolting movements scared her. But his arms were strong and safe around her, protecting her from falling and pressing her close as the two landed on the top of an elevator cart.

Jane let out a strangled cry, unable to hold back the tears as she sobbed. She felt safe. Secure. They weren't out of Arkham yet, but with his presence she knew nothing would happen to her. Batman reached behind her, yanking the buttons of the straightjacket and pulled the thick and heavy garment off of her arms. She wore a bra, but she was more concerned with throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in the crook of his neck. Never had she felt more grateful than she did now. And as the tears flowed freely down her face, she moved closer to him in search for comfort.

She found it as he wrapped his arms around her back. He held her close to him, cradling her much like a child as he stroked her hair, allowing her to cry against him. All of her pain seemed to ease with him being there, holding her like this. Batman was the stone she clung to as everything else faded around her, and she lost herself into the grief of what all had transpired. The last thing she was aware of was him whispering her name before she was swallowed in blackness.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Posting this early because, hey, I can. I'm the writer, right? Hope the last chapter wasn't disappointing to you guys. Didn't get as much feedback in the alloted time as I would have liked but maybe that will change. Reviews inspire me to continue writing, so even if it's just a: Hey! My name's Ya-ya and I like pink. I really like/dislike this story. **

**So, in order to perhaps _inspire _you to leave me a little something, I'll send you a SNEAK PEEK - the first five paragraphs of Chapter 11. SO LEAVE ME LOVE. please? :D I value each and every one of your kind words and I always try to reply as soon as I can. Thank you :) **

**We only have SIX more chapters left in this first part, and I have to say I'm getting really excited working on this next sequel. I'm also excited about these last few chapters. It's killing me. Really, it is. **

* * *

Bruce folded his arms across his chest, eyes trailed on the sleeping girl who lay in his bed. Alfred had bathed her as soon as Bruce carried her into the home, cleaning away the blood from her face and thighs as she was still knocked out cold from shock. Her body was no longer covered in the offending filth and seed of Crane, skin tinged pink from being scrubbed. She wore one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. He had no other clothes for her to wear, but knew that when she woke Jane would be in more shock than before. Being dressed might reassure her.

Her blonde hair hung around her face, framing her sharp and peaceful features beautifully as it haloed around her head on the pillow. The sheets covered her entire body, all the way up to her neck. The skin on the side of her face was torn a little - nothing to noticeable, but the minor cuts and bruises on her body were nothing compared to the mental damage she would have to face once she woke.

He himself had changed out of the suit. Replacing it with a simple tee shirt and sweatpants, he now looked more like Bruce Wayne instead of the Batman that she knew him as. Bruce was concerned with her waking up and realizing his identity, and had even considered taking her back to her home. But…something about the way she had clung to him told him that she couldn't handle waking up alone. She needed someone there, someone to look after her. The only place he could do that was at his home. There would be consequences – for instance, she would discover what Bruce truly did at night. It had been a difficult decision, but he had made his choice and was satisfied. He realized he trusted Jane.

Alfred opened the door, and Bruce turned. Watching the old butler for a moment, he turned his attention back to Jane's form as she lay in her slumber. "Has she woken at all?" Alfred asked as he stopped beside the billionaire, who shook his head. "Well…she will soon."

"You should have seen her Alfred." Bruce spoke, his voice heavy. "I had never seen her as helpless and frightened as I did at that moment. If I hadn't shown up then…," he shook his head, banishing the image of the men holding her down out of his head. It wasn't a pretty picture, but one that had plagued his conscious. They both had been lucky this time. He had arrived at just the right moment. Though he managed to save her, he hadn't had the chance to get Rebecca or the samples he wanted from the lab. It didn't bother him. Not as much as it probably should.

"The only thing that matters is you were there. You saved her, Master Wayne. That is the only thing you should concern yourself with." Looking back at the sleeping figure, he gave a stern nod. "She should wake up soon. Her shock should be wearing off. Make sure she eats a little something when she wakes up. Ms. Jane is sure to be feeling rather weak." The butler turned on his heel and disappeared from the room quietly, closing the door softly behind him.

Bruce's arms dropped to his sides. He walked over to the opposite side of the bed she laid on, sitting down and bringing one leg up on the mattress. Reaching forward, he pushed a few strands of hair out of her face, her weak breath fanning against the palm of his hand a bit as he did so. She was certainly beautiful. Lying here in his bed, dressed in his clothes. All of her worries and stresses gone from her face and replaced with the mask of a calm and cool demeanor. He wondered if he looked as peaceful when he was asleep.

Jane shifted positions, tilting her head in his direction before rolling towards him. She laid on her side now, one arm tucked under the pillow, and the other lying on the mattress. Her mouth dropped open just slightly, a content sigh eliciting from it. He stroked her cheek with his knuckles lightly. Her skin was soft beneath his touch, and he moved his hand away, surprised a bit at his own display of affection.

Bruce remembered how enraged he felt when Crane opened her up to the eyes of the other men. How he put her own display for all to see and engorge in before being promised a turn. The anger he felt racked through his spine, and all he had wanted to do was sweep her in his arms and carry her to safety. When he heard her begging, it had nearly ripped him apart, and he knew he could wait no longer. He had dropped from the ceiling and grabbed her, not paying attention to anything else around him but her. Jane's safety had become his priority, and when they were in the elevator shaft she had clung to him so tightly and strongly that it both startled him and stirred something deep within.

The damage done to her body disgusted him to vast extents. Crane would pay heavily for what he had done to her. Bruce would kill him himself if it weren't for his rule. In his mind, Crane deserved to die not only for what he had done to Jane, but what he had done to Rebecca and to the people of his asylum as well. The man was _sick_, and Bruce would go after him with a vengeance like no other.

Moving, Bruce turned to lean against the headboard of the bed, crossing his ankles over each other and his arms across his chest. He was sitting up and his eyes trailed on Jane for a moment before he let it rest against the wood. Closing his eyes, he tried to forget the image of her cowering on the table in front of the men, her legs being held apart by Crane as she was covered with her own blood. He knew that he could _never _forget it. Not the terror in her eyes, the begging tone of her voice, or the way Crane merely smiled down at her. He also would never forget the rage he had felt at the moment. That rage that tried to push him over the edge and kill everyone in that basement. He could have. It would have been easy. _So _easy.

Almost too easy.

* * *

When Jane opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was light.

Slamming them back shut again, she rolled over, her arm brushing against something warm and hardened. As she furrowed her brow in confusion, Jane realized that she was cocooned in soft cotton sheets and a thick comforter, swamped with warmth and her head lay against one of the softest pillows she ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. Comfort surrounded her and she sighed. This was much better than waking up on the concrete floor with her arms in a straightjacket.

Straight jacket. Crane. Her eyes flew open, body jolting up. Vision swimming, she had to blink a few times to erase the black spots that crowded around her eyes and obscured what she saw. She put a hand to her head, slowly trying to calm herself down as her sight returned back to her. The room she was in was elegantly decorated. Whoever lived here clearly had more money than they needed, and splurged on fine décor and tacky additions like gold candlesticks and thick tapestries. Wait a minute…she had seen those tapestries before. Squinting her eyes, she looked down and saw that she wore a man's tee-shirt and boxers. Someone had taken the care to clean her up and put her to rest. Had Batman…?

The bed shifted beside her, and Jane quickly jolted as she turned her head sharply to the side. Bruce Wayne's eyes slid open, focusing on her face before blinking sleepily. She shifted her position so that she sat on her knees, the sheets falling off of her as she gave him a confusing look. Why was she in the Wayne house? Where was Batman? Why had he taken her _here _of all places?

Then it clicked. Batman had taken her to the Wayne mansion because... he _was_ Bruce Wayne.

_Of course! _It made sense. Bruce Wayne had disappeared for seven years. And when he magically returns, suddenly he's all bulky and strong? Able to out-maneuver her somewhat when she had visited him that night so long ago. With his arrival also came the first appearances of Batman. Why hadn't she figured it all out before? Fuck she felt dumb. A hand flew to her mouth, covering the gasp that almost came out as she watched him shift so that he sat up now. The billionaire rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, sighing as if this was a normal thing for him to wake up in bed with another woman. Well, he _was_ Bruce Wayne, _playboy extraordinaire _according to the papers.. Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, she took the advantage of surprise and straddled his chest, pinning his arms down with her knees much like she had that first night she came to his house. Her thighs and center screamed out in protest and soreness, but she bit back the pain and focused on Wayne.

"You're Batman." She said in an accusing tone, almost as if she still couldn't believe it herself. Which she couldn't. The Bruce Wayne she had come to know was kind, though he still seemed selfish and arrogant in tabloids and magazines. Not someone who would run around Gotham in a fancy suit and fight crime. It just didn't seem to fit. Which was perfect, really. The more she thought about it, the more Jane realized that it was indeed the perfect alter ego, the perfect cover-up. If she had been this close to Batman and became an acquaintance of Wayne and hadn't pieced together the two men, who would? It was brilliant.

"I am." Bruce didn't struggle underneath her, remaining still as tone as she dug her knees into the crease of his elbows a bit painfully. His eyes were awakened now, observing her features as the slid across her face to take in her expression. She seemed shocked, naturally. But she took it in rather well in his opinion. Her eyes were widened a bit, cheeks flushed. All in all though, she wasn't freaking out, which was a good thing.

What could she say? The confirmation – two meager words – rang clearly in her head, echoing in meaning as the identity of the man was established. Finally, after a few weeks of working with him she found out just _who _he was. The revelation was astounding. Surprising. Never would she have pieced the two together on her own. At least, not without a major slip-up from him. He had managed to trick her a bit, conceal the two different parts of him quite well. Even she, a rather perspective person, hadn't been able to grasp this. Bruce Wayne had saved her….and here she was, straddling him like she had done when she threatened him. That night seemed ages ago, and she blushed, quickly sliding off of him to plop back down a little further on the massive sized bed.

Bruce watched her passively, but Jane knew that he was taking in every little thing she did. He was gauging her reaction, trying to see what she would do before she did it. Suddenly overcome with embarrassment, she looked down at her attire. "Thanks," she mumbled, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "For rescuing me and bringing me back here." For some reason, she was a little mortified that he had cleaned her, that he had seen her naked body. Which didn't make sense to her as he had certainly seen it in the basement.

He didn't say anything. She peered back up at him, seeing his gaze turn darker a bit with something that she couldn't place. Not desire, her short time with Crane had made her become acquainted with that emotion rather well. Something else…anger? Perhaps. With an internal shrug, she scooted off of the bed, landing gently on her feet. "I guess I'll be going now…" What else was she supposed to say? She had said her thanks, had been thoroughly become humiliated in his presence, and discovered his identity. The only thing she could do was go back to her apartment and try to figure out where to go from here.

Jane heard Bruce moving behind her, and instinctively pivoted to look at him, standing in her spot as he advanced cautiously towards her. It was as if he was afraid she would lash out at him, freak out. Why would she? He wasn't the one who had hurt her. That had been Crane. If anything, she should continue to thank him until she died. He saved her from being raped repeatedly and eventually tortured and killed, knowing the sick mind of Crane. Bruce was her savior. Batman had come for her, pulling her out of harm's way. Now she had a true face for him, and this encounter was a bit awkward. With her hesitation and humiliation and his silence, she wondered what would happen between them now. Would they continue to work together? Would they just ignore each other from now on?

She knew that he wouldn't harm her. Even though she was trusted with the knowledge of his darkest, deepest secret, he would never lay a hand on her to hurt her in any way. That realization settled her a bit, calming her shoulders from their tenseness and relaxing the fists that had formed by her sides. Bruce stopped in front of her, eyes concerned as he looked her up-and-down, much like a doctor would a patient.

"Stay, please." He said, and then gestured towards the bedside table which held a fancy silver tray overflowing with food. "Alfred brought this up not too long ago. You need the energy and sustenance." Not knowing what else to say, she gave him a tiny nod, then stepped around him and went towards the bedside table. She sank down to sit on the mattress, her feet still touching the floor. Slowly, she began to eat a bit. The food wasn't cold, just not hot. It was good, nonetheless, and welcome on her empty, rumbling stomach. A tall glass of orange juice quenched her thirst. When she was finished, she wiped her mouth with the napkin and looked back up at him awkwardly.

"You're being far too kind, Bruce." She said and stood. Heading back towards the door, she turned to look over her shoulder as she continued, "thank you for all of your help. I really should be going now though."

He appeared quietly at her side, closing the door with a palm flat against the wood as she pulled it open a bit. Jane glared at him, dropping her hand from the doorknob. "Mr. Wayne. I'd like to go home now. I'm not going to stay in your home and receive charity. I'm a big girl and can take care of myself."

"Yes, as you have so thoroughly demonstrated." Bruce spoke sharply. She gasped a little, narrowing her eyes at the tone and the words themselves, stepping closer to him. Jane threw all of her weight into her arms, pushing him against his chest so that he stumbled away from the door. Quickly, she opened it and slid out between the small opening. As she flew down the stairs, she heard him follow her, and quickened her pace. She wouldn't be held against her will. Not again. Even if it was a man she had come to trust with her life.

Bruce's hand grasped her wrist, yanking her back to a sudden stop. Jane whirled around to glare hotly at him, trying to tug her arm out of his grip. "Jane. Please, stay. Let us look after you. You've been through a lot and –"

"A lot?" Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, her voice a few octaves higher. "Bruce, that wasn't even _close_ to being truly horrifying. Other girls have been through far worse and they didn't have the help of a hero. Believe me, I appreciate your help to the fullest extent possible, and I hate that what happened, happened to me, but it could have been worse. Far worse. Don't mistake me, as I said, I am forever in your debt for rescuing me, but a lot? No," she shook her head, "that's not even close."

"Jane –"

"I would appreciate it if you let go of me. I am thankful that you took me here and…cleaned me up, taking care of me until I awoke, but I am no longer in need of your charity. If anything, it further places me in your debt, which I already can never hope to pay. I'm fine. Really. There are some things I need to take care of, some precautions that need to be done." Her mind flickered back to Crane coming inside of her. He hadn't used protection, and she needed to make sure that he hadn't impregnated her or given her a disease. Neither of the two options appealed to her in the least, and she wanted to calm her mind of the prospects before it became too late.

"I'm not letting you leave. You're staying here. With me and my protection and care. I can't have you going back out there with Crane looking for you. You know he'll come back for you, right? He's pissed that I interfered with his torture of you, and he'll seek to finish the job." He felt her shiver a bit at the image, but she continued to try to jerk her wrist. "I put you in this mess. You wouldn't have gone down there if it weren't for me. I owe it to you to help take care of you."

Jane resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Stop being so chivalrous, Bruce. Like I said, I'm a big girl and can take care of myself. Crane caught me by surprise. It won't happen again. That I can promise you."

"Yes, because you'll be _here_ and not on the streets. Why are you being so difficult?"

"Difficult? You're the one being difficult here! I just want to go home – that's it. You won't even grant me that one little request. I thanked you for what you did, and I can't stay here any longer under your _protection_. I'll go mad! Shit like this happens every day in the world - right here in fucking _Gotham_. It happened to me. Okay, so what? What's the big deal? It'll be some other girl tonight, another tomorrow. Go save _them_." With all the force she could muster, she yanked her arm fully away from him and whirled around, stomping towards the door.

"That's not fair, Jane." He hissed, quickly following her once again. Bruce stepped in front of her, in between her and the door. "I can't protect them, but I can protect you. I'm going to try my hardest to make sure you don't get hurt again. You're right, it could have been worse and it does happen every day. But that doesn't make it any better or make it right. In no way, shape, or form does it lessen the impact of what happened to you. So don't come in here and act like it doesn't bother you because I _saw_ you and I _heard_ you. Drop the tough act."

"Tough act? _Tough act?_ What is it that you would have me do? Mope around and act like it's the end of the world? Because it's not. Life goes on. I need to pick myself up and try to piece my life back together now. I can't change what happened and neither can you, so the best thing we can do is just forget about it. I'm not going to let myself be swallowed in grief over this. Yeah, I was fucking terrified and I fucking begged, but nothing else happened. I'm _not _going to let Crane's actions rule the rest of my life."

Bruce closed his eyes, sighing and ran his fingers through his hair. Jane crossed her arms over her chest and gave him an expectant look. What was he going to say now? That she should sit here and cry about it? No. She was done crying. She cried in the elevator shaft, and now? She was over that. Done. She wasn't the type of girl who carried that weight around and let it dictate who she was. Those things may help other women move on, but not her. She wouldn't let herself become absorbed by it. Why couldn't Bruce understand that? She thought he knew her better than to think she would do anything different.

"Shit happens every day. Doesn't make it right, but it just happens. In the end, it will make me or break me. I can't let it break me, Bruce. I _can't_. I'm not that type of survivalist. I wish that you could see that." Jane stepped around him, brushing up against his shoulder as she went to the door. Pausing, she froze her hand on the door handle, anticipating for him to stop her again. But he didn't. "Thanks again, Bruce. For everything."

* * *

The shower was the longest one she ever had. Even though she was already clean, there was nothing like scrubbing off the touch of another person with your own soap. After she had taken off a few layers of skin, she stepped out of the shower, grabbing onto a towel and wrapping it around her frame, holding it closely to her. The skin that had been scraped off from the concrete was mostly bandaged, save for her face, and she knew she would soon have to take it off and let the wounds breathe a bit.

Going into the bedroom, she rummaged through her drawers, peering up at the window to see that the sky was darkening, the orange glow of the streetlights illuminating the otherwise dark room. She had yet to flip on any light switches or lamps, preferring the nice slight darkness as she dressed in sweatpants and a tee. Her hair was brushed out using her fingertips, and before long she was nestled in her bed. It wasn't as comfortable to her now that she had lain in Bruce's bed. Much like the soap, though, there was something comforting about her bed underneath her.

The soft drizzle of rain began to work at her tense body. Sounds of the droplets rolling and bouncing along the metal roofs of the surrounding buildings, beating delicately against her window soothed her. Jane closed her eyes, immersing herself in the darkness of her conscious and the beautiful noise of nature around her. Rarely did she find herself this at ease. Even after the events of the prior day, she let herself go, drifting off into the sea of unconsciousness that she loved so much. Her awake mind was reeling, replaying every touch, every thrust, every word of Crane and she wanted the unpleasant memories to leave her. Much like she had told Bruce earlier: Jane didn't want this experience to put her down. If anything, she wanted to build up on it and hopefully help her. Instead of succumbing to the urge to ball up and cry, she wanted to move on. To breathe back life. People dealt with these things differently, and she chose this sweet escape over a cry-fest.

She felt numb, empty. A shell of what she used to be. Crane had taken her greatest fear – intimacy – and screwed it against her, using it to tear her down, making her less of a person that before. It might not be so bad in other people's eyes, and even though she tried to deny it even to herself, she was hurting. She hurt a lot. And not just the soreness between her legs, but also her heart as well. Never had she been one to actually enjoy the closeness sex provided. Her encounter with Crane did nothing to alleviate it. If anything, it made her even more fearful of the act itself. She didn't know when she realized she first started to despise intimacy, but now, she had a more than healthy fear for it, and hoped to never go through it again. What did people find so enjoyable about sex? It merely tore her apart, bringing pain along with very little pleasure.

Jane tried to shove the thoughts out of her head again. Once again, she forced herself to think about the rain and the rain alone. She had just started to relax and then her mind had run away from her again. Rolling over onto her stomach, she tucked her hands underneath the pillow, laying on her stomach with her head turned to the side, looking out the window. Rain splattered against it, becoming a little harder and beating solidly against the pane.

A loud clatter rang out on her fire escape. It banged against the brick wall, metal scraping and shattering. Bolting upwards, she dug into the drawer of her bedside table for her gun. Bruce's warnings against Crane coming after her rang in her head. She clutched the gun in her hands, finger gracing the trigger. Whoever was on the fire escape moved again, their clumsy and heavy movements causing the metal to continue to bang against the building. Jane gulped, steadying her shooting hand as she stepped slowly around the bed and to the large window that overlooked the fire escape. Seeing it vibrate, she cautiously edged herself closer to it step by tiny step.

A large, gloved black hand pressed against the window and she heard tight moans and gasps of someone in pain. The sudden, unexpected movement caused her to jump a little, and she rushed towards the window quicker this time, throwing it open with one hand and pointing to the figure with the gun in the other. Her fury-filled eyes at the intruder focused on a large black lump lying on the metal balcony. His cape lay around him, soaked through with the heavy weight of rain. Batman was gasping, whispering her name as his unfocused glance roamed around her face in a searching manner, as if he were not quite seeing her.

Jane dropped the gun in surprise at Batman's figure lying on her fire escape. Rapidly, Jane opened the window a little wider and stepped through, landing gently on the escape next to his body. Rain saturated through her skin immediately. Hair dripping around her face, she crouched down to run her hands along his face in a comforting manner. Batman panted underneath her touch.

"Batman? Batman? _Bruce?" _She whispered, desperate to get him coherent again. "What happened? What's wrong?" He didn't answer, closing his eyes and moaning Alfred's name. Biting her lip, Jane took his head and placed it on her thighs, much in the same manner as she did with Rebecca. She needed to get him inside, out of the chillingly cold rain and wetness. He needed to get warm and dry. "Listen, I need you to walk, okay? Can you do that? I'll help you, but we have to get you inside."

He nodded vaguely, weakly. Jane shifted her hands so they were underneath his shoulders, pushing up so that his heavy upper body now sat. She struggled, and never would have been able to move him if it weren't for the fact that he seemed to be able to support himself somewhat shakily on his legs. All but pushing him through the narrow window, he finally was inside in the warmth. Jane pulled herself through, quickly turning to close the window behind her to stop the rain and wind from coming inside. Batman lay at her feet, splayed out with his arms and legs as he continued to gasp. It was as if he couldn't get enough air into his lungs.

Jane knelt down again, pushing hair out of her face, and took off the mask. His brown hair was matted around his face, eyes closed, and she moved to unclip his cape, the top dropping to the ground now that they weren't connected to him. Jane then worked on the rest of his suit, hoping that she wasn't causing any permanent damage to the expensive and heavy-looking shells she took off. Piling the pieces in the corner of the room, she jumped up and gathered her large comforter in her arms, putting it around him to block out the cold as his body quaked. His bare chest glinted off a little from random droplets that fell from her, but his boxer briefs were dry. For that, she was thankful, not knowing if she could strip him completely.

Her attention turned to herself next. She was shivering from the cold, and she crossed her arms in front of her, gripping the end of her tee shirt, pulling if off of her and tossing it to the side. The pants came off next, piling on top of his suit. Bruce was still shivering underneath the comforter, but Jane knew it wasn't from the cold. It seemed to be from…fear? Could it have been fear that was terrifying him so? As she quickly dressed in some dry clothes, she bent down back onto the floor, sitting beside him. Jane stroked his hair soothingly, not knowing what else to do. Her cell phone buzzed on her bed, and she reached up, snatching it and flipping it open.

"Yes?" She asked, not checking to see who the call was from. Who else could it be, though? Bruce was here in her apartment and Falcone was probably in Arkham now. The only other person who had her phone number was Gordon.

"Jane? Is Master Wayne there?" An older voice sounding quite concerned spoke on the other line.

"Yes, he's here. Why? What do you want? Who are you?"

"I'm Alfred, his butler. I'm coming to get him. Is he all right?"

"He's shaking, but now he's dry. I would tell you where I live, but you probably already know that. Be here quick, I don't know what's going on with him." She snapped the phone closed without waiting for a reply and tossed the phone back onto the bed. Bruce wasn't shaking as violently anymore, his eyes fluttering as he struggled to remain awake. Jane continued to stroke his hair, whispering his name.

* * *

Jane didn't sleep at all that night, or the next. When the sun rose, she found herself sitting next to Bruce, watching over him like she imagined he had done with her. The curtains were drawn open, the gentle light coming in and falling on the side of his face. His skin was noticeably – and worriedly – pale. White much like the sheets he laid upon. Bruce's chest rose and fell as he breathed in his sleep. Those tiny movements were the only way that she knew he was still alive.

After Alfred and she had moved Bruce's unconscious body into Alfred's waiting car, the two sped to the Wayne mansion. From there, they lugged the man into the bed with great difficulty. Somehow, they managed. Getting him into the bed and clothes had been the easy part. Now, they waited patiently for him to wake up, hoping and praying that Lucius Fox's counteractive drug worked. Neither of the two knew what exactly had transpired that night, Bruce having told nothing. It was a long shot to call Lucius and hope he had something to offer, but after a while of working, Fox had come up with what he believed would reverse the effects of some drug in Bruce's system. The antidote had been given just a few hours ago, and there were still no signs of him stirring from his deep sleep.

Jane's stomach rumbled. She slipped off the bed, still clad in her sweatpants and tee-shirt from two days ago. Fatigue made her a little weary, but her priority now was watching Bruce. He had done the same for her, and she wanted to him to know that she hadn't abandoned him in his time of need. There was a reason Bruce had come to her. What reason, she didn't know. All she knew was Bruce trusted her deeply, more so than most others that was a part of his inner circle. After all, Jane, Alfred, and Lucius were the only people who knew of his alter ego. Rachel didn't, and the two were supposedly close. Or, used to be at least. Jane didn't take that placed trust for granted. Trust was something the two of them valued. When he let her piece together the puzzle, he had shown her a greater side of him – a side that most people would never know. To her, that was vastly important. She would do whatever it took to make sure that it wasn't betrayed.

As she entered the kitchen, Jane saw Alfred cooking breakfast. The smell of pancakes and bacon overwhelmed her and her mouth watered at the delectable scent. Alfred heard her coming in, looking over from where he stood at the stove, and smiled. Normally, a butler wouldn't do such a thing. But from Jane's own wanderings of the house she saw that no one but Alfred and Bruce lived in it.

Alfred fixed her a plate without her asking, and she gave him a grateful smile before indulging in the food. She practically shoved it in whole, scarfing down the heat and barely tasting it. The old butler laughed at this, fixing a plate for himself and eating it delicately, much like an old Englishman would do. When the two were finished, Jane helped him wash the plates – to his protest – and turned to go back up the stairs.

"Perhaps, Ms. Jane, you should shower and rest a bit? When Master Wayne awakes, I'm sure he would be most disappointed to see that you haven't refreshed yourself." Alfred said politely. "He wouldn't want to see you raggedy and tired. Why, the bags under your eyes are almost as big as mine!"

"I'm not going to leave him alone, Alfred. He could wake up, and I want to be there when he does." Jane replied, going up the stairs. Alfred followed her, much to her annoyance. She liked the old man extremely, but he could be a bit much at times.

"A short bath is all I'm asking. That's all you need. A little water and soap would do you good. I'll even let you use _his _shower so that you'll be close. A change of clothes will be waiting for you, and then you could go back to watching over him like a little guardian angel." He chuckled a bit, patting her on the shoulder. "You and him are rather similar, have you noticed? Both quite stubborn and willful. When you were here, I had to force him to eat, sleep, and bathe as well."

Jane frowned at the memory, but allowed Alfred to push her into a bathroom that branched from Bruce's room. "The towels are over there, and it's a basic bathroom. Nothing fancy. I'll leave you to it." Closing the door behind him, she blinked a little bewildered at the man. Smiling, she shook her head in amusement and began to strip away her clothes. Alfred was right, she needed a quick bath. She didn't want Bruce to wake up to see her all greasy and dirty, smelling like a garbage can.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I have the room to myself this weekend. Know what that means? More time to work on the story! FREAK YEAH. **

**Thank you to those who review/favorite/follow. You guys make me feel so awesome and stoked it's not even funny. I reply to every review and I want to especially thank you guys. You rock my socks.**

* * *

Her bath was quick and she felt immensely better because of it. In Bruce's room, a few folded clothes were on his bed. A large white button-down – probably Bruce's – and a pair of young men's sweatpants. She put the clothes on, the large fabrics swallowing her thin frame. Chuckling at the ridiculous image, she towel-dried her hair, throwing it into a ponytail. She took her usual spot by Bruce's side, fingers once again lacing in his brown hair that had a hint of curl to it.

Bruce had such soft hair. It slipped through her touch easily, tinged a little with sweat, and falling back over his forehead when she let go. In an uncharacteristic moment of softness, Jane began to hum. It was a slow, beautiful lullaby her father used to sing to her when she was young. He would bring out his guitar, old and scuffed from years and years of use, strumming the strings with his calloused fingers and singing in a low voice. The lullaby sounded very old, like one an old country musician might sing with only a gentle melody of the guitar and his voice. To her, though, it was beautiful – taking a deeper meaning than the words that, at the time, she had been too young to understand. Often, her father sang it to her right up until the time her mother left, coming into her bedroom when it was storming outside to calm her into a sleep.

It seemed perfect for the moment she was in now. Gently, she began to sing the words, letting them flow from her lips in her shaky alto voice. Jane was no musician, but she could carry an okay tune. The words were dark, speaking of a lost lust for life until the speaker began to rediscover the meaning of what it was to live. However, it comforted her. When she closed her eyes, she could make out the clear shape of her father, sitting at the foot of her bed, hunched over the guitar, head facing down to look at his hands as his lips moved in a slowness as the words tumbled down into the silence around her. His long brown hair falling forward. The barely-there smile on the upper corner of his lips. The way his eyes flickered up to her every now and then to see if she was asleep. She never was. Not until he finished the song. As a young girl, Jane lived for these comforting moments in her otherwise dark world. These precious times of rare comfort and love wrapped up in hours and hours of yelling, screaming, and berating.

A tear slipped from the corner of her cheek. Her father had been one of the few people in her life that she actually cared about. The only one, in fact, that ever seemed to truly care about her. Since his death, Jane felt as if her world had grown number, dimmer in beauty. Like the man in the song that died into the final chords, she realized that she, too, had lost the meaning of life. What was the point when it could be taken away so easily? She knew more than anyone. Taking lives was something that was far to simple, something that could be accomplished with nary a thought.

Jane reached up and wiped the tear. She hadn't realized how much she hurt up until now. Here was Bruce, a man who had saved her, was stuck between life and death. She could do nothing to save him. Just like she could do nothing for her father. All she could do was wait. Wait anxiously, hoping against hope that Bruce would open his eyes.

* * *

Jane was first aware of being curled up. Her legs were entangled with Bruce's, arms wrapped around his chest as he lay on his back. His strong grip was wrapped around hers, and her head was on his chest, rising and falling with the tempo of his breathing. Somehow during the sleep, Jane managed to snuggle up to him, unconsciously seeking the warmth of another as she sought out that comfort and protection it provided. A week or two ago, she would have scoffed at the notion of trying to find that feeling, but right now? All she wanted to do was continue to lay there. There was something in the feel of her thin body pressed against his muscled one. The way his arm caged around her, pulling her tighter to him also spoke volumes to her.

Bruce also sought comfort.

If he didn't, the two of them wouldn't be in this exact position. Even though he might not want this from her exactly – Jane figured that he was imagining Rachel – it still meant that Bruce was like every other ordinary human being. He was an insanely strong man. Not just in physique, but in mind, heart, and soul as well. Jane recalled that Bruce had also lost his parents at an early age much like herself. How had the two gone to such extreme paths? He, a playboy by day and vigilante by night, dressing as a bat to instill fear into those who terrorized others. She, a criminal who had a weak sense of loyalty when compared to others and tried to maintain a wall of strength that deceived even herself. In the end, Jane realized, the two of them threw up so many barriers for other people as well as themselves. They wore masks, both literal and the figurative, and as time grew on, even came to deceiving themselves.

Her arm tightened around where it laid across his waist as she shifted positions a bit. The idea that she didn't know who she truly was made her uncomfortable, wary to fully delve into the subject at all. Who was she, really? Jane didn't know. Would she ever know? From the time when Falcone took her into his ranks, Jane struggled to stay alive amongst the depravity of Gotham's underworld. She was forced to kill and kill without question. Having to fight against the threat of rape and betrayal, Jane limited her inner circle and trusted no one until she stumbled upon Gordon.

Her reasons for turning towards a sense of justice had been purely selfish now that she looked back on it. Instead of doing it for the common good, or even to get Falcone off the streets – as she had conceived herself so easily into believing – it had been for her own skin. Everyone fell. Even men like Falcone. Jane wanted an escape route, something that would save her when she lost Falcone's protection. She wasn't so damn heroic as she thought she was. All of the things she had done in her life had been for her, and her alone.

A sickening feeling settled into her stomach as she realized just how less of a person she actually was. Was this what it was like? To finally uncover the inner truth about oneself? Jane didn't like this, not at all. For years she lived in a web of deceit, lies, and a huge guard thrown up to protect her own sense of security. Now that she felt safe, that wall had been removed, and slowly but surely she came to her senses. Jane was not as tough as she wanted to believe. Not in the least. The thought scared her.

Underneath her arm, she felt Bruce's stomach muscles tighten, squeezing and clenching momentarily before relaxing again. He uttered something. Hopeful, Jane lifted her head from its comfortable spot on his chest to look up at his face. His mouth moved, a gentle breath coming, a word whispered that she couldn't make out. The arm around her body rose from where it was around hers. His fingers swiped across her hair tenderly, lightly, as if he wasn't intending to do it. Bruce flipped slowly onto his side, Jane slipping off of him, her body instantly rejecting the coolness from the sheets. She got onto her knees, maneuvering off of the bed and onto the floor, pulling the oversized shirt back into position on her body. The discarded sweatpants were on the floor and she hastily pulled them on, combing through the rat's nest of her hair. With one last glance to Bruce, Jane hurried to the door and moved out, not bothering to be quiet. If Bruce hadn't woken from her weight on him, he wouldn't be startled out of his sleep by a door opening and closing.

Alfred was downstairs. Lounging on a couch, in his hands he held a newspaper, flipping through the pages without reading any of the articles. Jane sat in a chair beside him. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, but he said nothing, flipping the pages, eyes moving back to the newspaper. "I assume Master Wayne is still asleep?" He asked.

"Yes," she sighed, grasping the ponytail around the wrist. Jane pulled her hair into a bun, soothing down the sides. "I wonder when Lucius' antidote will start working. Shouldn't he be up by now? It's been like, two days now."

Alfred shrugged. He folded the newspaper and set it on the glass coffee table in front of him. His elegantly long legs crossed, hands falling into his lap. Looking up at her pensively, he replied, "I'm not a science man, Ms. Jane. And to my understanding, neither are you. The best we can do is wait, and hope that Master Bruce will wake up soon enough."

"Alfred, please. Ms. Jane sounds extremely ridiculous." She shook her head at the ludicrousness at the title. She was certainly no lady. "I guess you're right though. I just wish _something_ would happen already. I hate just waiting around for something to happen. It's almost as if he will never wake up…"

The old butler gave her a soft smile. "He's a strong man. Giving up has never been in his nature. Not even when he was little." Jane bit the inside of her cheek nervously, collapsing back into the chair. She had never been a patient person. All of this…sitting and doing nothing made her think too much. Thinking too much led to revealing startling revelations about herself that she didn't want to register. An idle mind never did anyone any good in her opinion, and the thoughts she had earlier did nothing to debunk that theory that had a stronghold in her mind.

"Shouldn't we take him to a doctor now? I mean, if he doesn't wake up soon, he may have surpassed the point when even they can't help him. Bruce would understand and it's not like we would have to tell them anything."

He shook his head, "no. Master Wayne would be furious if we took him to a hospital. He values his privacy very much. Doctors are notoriously nosy when it comes to such matters, and it would only lead to more questions that we cannot answer. We have everything we would need here." Alfred paused, looking over at Jane's frown. "You are not the only one who worries for him, Jane. Try to remember that."

She blushed furiously. "I do understand that. But it seems that I'm the only one who's thinking about his safety over his privacy. Sometimes you have to give a little to gain a lot. We wouldn't have to tell them anything at all. Just let them run a few tests and then they'll figure out what's going on with him. It doesn't seem like your plan is working very well at all."

"It's only been two days. If it becomes a week and he still hasn't woken then yes, we may seriously consider taking him to a hospital. But for now, we need to keep him _here_ under our watch. Taking him to be probed by men in little surgical masks won't do anyone a lick of good, especially not Bruce."

Jane sighed, but didn't press the issue further. Alfred did know Bruce better, having raised him himself. She barely knew him at all. Even the bond that she thought they shared didn't really give her an idea of who he wholly was. She only knew parts – not the whole person that he was. As she crossed her arms over her chest, Jane couldn't help but still be a bit worried about the man upstairs. "Do you have a gym?"

"Second floor, fifth room down."

Standing, Jane went to the staircase and made for the gym, suddenly feeling the need to run a few miles or kickboxing. The door to the gym opened easily, and she halted in the archway, mouth dropping open in shock and awe as she looked around the huge room. Mirrors covered one wall, windows on the back viewing the beautiful sprawling lawns of the manor, and the other walls held a few flat-screen televisions, speakers, and a huge stereo system. The equipment itself was state-of-the-art, beautiful pieces of machinery. What else would she expect from the billionaire?

A smile on her face, she closed the door and stripped from the shirt, laying it carefully on a chair. Clad in a sports bra that she wore when she went to sleep and the sweatpants, she began to do a series of warm-up stretches before going to the boxing corner. She wrapped her hands then stuck them inside the gloves, loving the feel of power they gave her. It had been a while since she boxed. Jane missed the physical exertion dearly. Before she had started working with Crane, Jane had normally attended the gym several times a week, pushing her body to its limits. The result as a thin, muscular body that held very little womanly curves. The look suited her fine. The less she looked like a woman, the more serious others might take her. Or at least, that was what she thought at one time.

Sweaty and panting, she showered a hour later in Bruce's bathroom again. When she came out, Lucius and Alfred were standing next to Bruce's bed, speaking of something but stopping once she neared. Crossing her arms over her chest and widening her stance defensively, she gave the two men an expectant look.

"Bruce should wake soon," Lucius explained to her. "The antidote should have worked its way through his body now. Alfred said that you had a few concerns earlier about our treatment?"

"It's nothing personal, Mr. Fox." She shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bed at Bruce's feet. He was still underneath the heavy sheets, face damp with sweat from a fever. "I was worried about him, and let that get in the way of realizing what he would want. I apologize. Never had I meant to discredit you or Alfred's choices on the matter."

"It's quite all right, Jane," Alfred smiled warmly. "We all care for Master Wayne, and you two seem to share a particular… _interest _in one another." Jane blushed again at the insinuation of his sentence, quickly shaking her head.

"Strictly business partners. He saved my life, and I can only hope to do the same one day." Giving them a small smile, she looked back over to Bruce. His breathing was still steady as normal, and she didn't notice any other changes. He still lay on his side, hands tucked under the pillow. One would think he was merely napping. The light sweat, pale parlor of the skin, and slight frown at the brow told otherwise, however.

Behind her, Alfred picked up a glass of water, stirring some powder into it. The clinking of the metal spoon against the cup was the only sound to be heard, all conversation ceasing. Jane shifted so that her legs were under her. When she looked back over to Bruce, she saw his eyes slowly glide open, and her heart leaped to her throat as she realized that he was _awake._

She couldn't even speak. Relief and joy choking her, words couldn't force their way out coherently. Arm flailing in the air, she brushed it against the pant leg of Alfred's crisply pressed slacks, her mouth gaping open. Bruce's eyes blinked a few times, narrowing and widening to accommodate the bright light from the open windows. They flickered around the room until they fell upon her, holding her gaze solidly as if he were a little slow to realize that she was actually there in front of him.

"How long was I out?" His voice was thick with sleepiness. Exhaustion. Weariness. Bruce still seemed extremely tired. Very different from the otherwise vibrantly aware man that she had come to notice him as.

"Two days." Alfred replied, noticing that Jane still wasn't able to speak yet. "It's your birthday." The news of the date took her aback a bit, and she jerked her head up to glare at Alfred. Why hadn't he shared that piece of information sooner? Jane could have done something to help out. Like get him a gift or something. Wait, what did one give to a billionaire vigilante who saved her? "Many happy returns." He passed the water glass to Bruce, who took it.

"Happy birthday then, I guess." Jane said rather lamely, suddenly feeling like a complete and utter fool. How could she not have known that today was Bruce's birthday? Bruce gave her a small smile, understanding her awkwardness at the situation. He put the glass up to his lips, taking a large gulp from it. Wincing at the bitter taste, he began to shift upwards a little, moving her own body with his. Jane stood, crossing her arms in their customary position across her small chest.

Bruce sighed, and then spoke, "I've felt these effects before, but this was so much more potent. Some kind of…hallucinogenic…weaponized in aerosol form." His eyes squinted as if he were going over the events up until he blacked out in his mind, looking from Jane to Alfred.

Lucius stepped from the shadows, smiling a little grimly. "You have been hanging out at the wrong clubs, Mr. Wayne."

When Bruce saw Lucius, he froze a little, the glass stopped at his lips. "I called Mr. Fox soon after your condition worsened after the first day," Alfred explained to the surprised man.

"I analyzed your blood, isolating the receptor compounds and the protein-based catalyst."

Bruce gave him a confused look, Jane stifled a laugh. "And…I'm supposed to understand any of that?"

"Not at all," Lucius said plainly, as if he were just explaining something boring. "I just wanted you to know how hard it was. Bottom line, I synthesized an antidote."

"Did you make more?"

"Plan on gassing yourself more, Bruce?" Jane asked, earning an amused glance from Alfred.

He smiled. "Well you know how it is. Rough night, out looking for your kicks, someone's passing around weaponized hallucinogens…" Lucius and Alfred laughed, Jane cracking a broad smile as she shook her head. It was the first time in a while that she heard him joke around so easily. She wondered if Bruce let go more when he hadn't been Batman.

"I'll bring what I have. The antidote should inoculate you for now. Alfred, always a pleasure. Jane." Lucius gave the two a brief nod before turning and leaving the room, his brown expensive sports jacket rustling.

Alfred gave the billionaire another gentle smile. "Well, I believe that my job is done here. When you're ready, Master Wayne, you can join us downstairs. I didn't cancel your birthday party, seeing as how Lucius told me that you should wake up today. Ms. Jane, I took the premonition that you would join us as well tonight?"

Her eyebrows rose shockingly. She? Attend one of Bruce Wayne's notorious parties? If she could, she would blush. Seeing as how she was still trying to maintain a strong hold on her emotions now, she didn't, and gave Bruce a fleeting glance over her shoulder before looking back to Alfred. "I'm afraid I don't have anything to wear that would be suitable for the occasion," she muttered. It wasn't a lie. Being a poor criminal didn't call for having lavish gowns and jewelry for parties and such. Falcone was never one to throw those types of galas and such – that was Maroni.

"I insist that you come, Jane," Bruce said as he sat up on the bed. Stretching out an arm, he laid it on hers. The skin that he touched tingled underneath, and her down casted eyes took in the sight of his skin in such proximity to hers. "It would mean a lot to me to have you there. Besides," he smiled his playboy smile, one corner lifting up, "someone there needs to be having as much of a miserable time as I will be having."

Jane bit her lip. His hand dropped, and it surprised her how much she wanted that faint little touch again. Like when she woke up cuddling with him, it meant much more to her than a simple body-on-body contact. The contact was warm, alien. And she liked it. More so than she dared to admit.

"I took the liberty in ordering you a dress." Alfred admitted. When she turned to look at him, she saw he wasn't near as apologetic looking as he sounded. "I hope you don't mind. When we were taking care of you, I guessed your size quite well I believe. Shouldn't be too hard. You're a tiny little thing, anyway."

Giving him a grateful smile, she reached up and soothed her damp hair in a nervous gesture. The idea of being in a room with a bunch of rich snobs didn't appeal to her at all. Something about the elite of Gotham rubbed her the wrong way, though she didn't know exactly why. Maybe it was because she was a tad bit jealous at the easy life they seemed to have. But that didn't make much sense to her, really. Jane had never met any of Gotham's upper class, save for Bruce, and he hadn't left a bad impression on her at all. Bruce's case was a little different from theirs though. He was _trying _to make Gotham a better place by actually doing something. They weren't.

Jane looked back to Bruce's hopeful gaze. Finding that she couldn't resist his wide brown eyes, she smiled, replying, "Yes, I guess I'll go. Can't have a dress wasted." Bruce beamed. She giggled, standing from the bed. "When will it be? I need to go home and pick up a few things. Make-up, girl stuff and the like."

"Jane wearing make-up _and_ a dress?" Bruce scoffed mockingly. "I'll have to see it to believe it." He pushed the covers back, smiling still as he swung his legs over the side.

"Same here," she muttered to herself. Sadly, she couldn't remember a time when she had dressed up in a dress and make-up. What would it be like? Being a woman, she knew how to wear one and how to put on her face, but she never had an opportunity to really do it. The prospect was deliciously challenging, and it _excited_ her. For once, she could actually be a woman and not have any worries. Her smile became broader on her face.

"Tonight at seven o'clock," Alfred answered. "Quite looking forward to it myself, actually. It will be the one night in quite some time when I won't have to worry about whether or not Bruce will comeback in on piece or many." He eyed the man, who gave him a smug smile.

Bruce stood, swaying a little on his feet. He put a hand against his forehead, blinking a little, sucking in a deep breath. He waved off a concerned Alfred, whom had taken a step forward in an advance to help him a bit. Walking slowly, he grabbed a robe, throwing it on and finally taking a long look at Jane, who still wore his tee shirt and sweatpants. His eyebrows rose at her attire.

"It was the only thing here," she shrugged. Not that she would tell him she actually _liked _wearing his clothes. She held her arms out expectantly, smiling sneakily. "What would you have me do? Run around the house naked?" Turning around, she walked out of the room, not waiting to see the expression on his face.

He shook his head. Not resisting the urge to smile, he did, and thought to himself at how much he liked the sight of her in his shirt. It looked right on her. Fit her well. If he had anything to do with it, Bruce might try to persuade her to wear his clothes all the time.

Stopping the thought instantly, he reprimanded himself. He and Jane were _not _a couple. They were business partners. Strictly. Anything more would just make things more complicated and messy. If he started to allow himself to think things like that about her….well, it would not work out well for either of them in the end. Just like with Rachel.

Bruce still loved Rachel. More than anything, actually. More than he thought he could ever come to love another human being. Maybe one day Rachel would see him the way Jane did – as someone who was more than an egotistical playboy. Rachel saw him as someone he wasn't, having become fooled by the exterior he portrayed to the media and to others. It hurt, knowing that Rachel had swiftly thrown away what Bruce used to be – a decent, young boy – and actually believed that he would grow to become someone like this. She took in the lie. And though she had admonished him for it, she believed it, looking down at him even when he tried to explain in some way that this _wasn't _him. Bruce knew that someway he would have to show her that she had a skewed image of him. If he ever wanted a future with her, it would be something he would have to clear with her. Otherwise, she would just look at him like she did when they did come across each other. Which, with her job and his activities, was very rarely.

Jane was gliding down the staircase when she heard the obvious signs of a conversation. Easily, she distinguished Alfred's. His refined, kind accent echoing in the house even with the comings and goings of a few servants that were putting up party decorations. Even though she hadn't seen any other house servants besides the old butler, upon further scrutiny she saw that the workers were dressed in garden clothes, overalls and boots. They must be the groundkeepers, she realized, remembering that Bruce did have a large estate to manage and the two of them wouldn't be able to keep it up together.

As she turned the corner to enter the front lobby where she heard the voices, she also recognized the light air of Rachel Dawes' voice. Interest piqued, she rounded the corner, stepping into the view of the young assistant attorney. The woman was differently this time. A brown blazer over a navy tank top, brown slacks and boots. Dressy for Jane, but casual for a woman like Rachel. When she saw Jane standing in the house, she halted the sentence.

"What are you doing here?" She said in an accusatory tone, stepping around Alfred as if she would protect him. "People like you shouldn't be in this house." Eyes traveling down Jane's attire, she frowned deeply in confusion. Jane could see the questions clearly in her eyes. _Why was she wearing Bruce's shirt? Why was she fresh from a shower? Why was she even _in _the house?_

She opened her mouth to explain herself when Alfred cut her off. "Jane is a friend of Master Wayne's." Rachel's eyes widened at the words, and Jane immediately realized what Rachel was thinking. That Jane was _sleeping_ with Bruce.

"Friends only," she elaborated. She stepped closer to Rachel, giving a small smile. "I'm not that kind of woman, Miss Dawes. I know that you have a very different view of who I am, exactly. But I can tell you that whatever precognitions that you believe are false. You can look to Gordon to answer any questions that you may have." Turning her smile into a bit friendlier one, she pushed a few strands of her hair back. "I'm a friend, Miss Dawes. To you, to Gordon, to Bruce, and to Gotham."

Rachel's big brown eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Don't worry, Miss Jane," she spoke primly, lifting her chin a bit, scrutinizing her a little more. "I will talk to Gordon."

"Great." Jane's lips were tighter, smile strained. She knew that Rachel's actions were not groundless. The first time the young attorney had come into contact with her was when she was with Crane. Being blind, Rachel hadn't seen that Jane was trying to protect the girl. Still, this scrutiny was bothersome and annoying. "You do that."

"Rachel?" Bruce's voice rang out from behind them. Jane didn't turn to watch him coming down, not wanting to see the longing look Bruce was probably giving Rachel. Her eyes stayed on the woman in front of her, and was filled with a moment of thankfulness that Rachel's demeanor hadn't changed. Her eyes were friendly, of course, but not loving or romantic at all. It was a petty. But she was still glad.

Alfred left from their little group, brushing past Jane as he went towards Bruce. "Bruce," Rachel acknowledged. "Looks like someone's been burning the candle at both ends. Must have been quite an occasion."

"It is my birthday." Bruce said happily. His tone was light, and he stopped beside Jane, not glancing over at her though.

"I know. I'm sorry I can't come tonight." Bruce's face fell a tad at this revelation, but he managed to recover quickly. "I was just dropping off your present." She handed him a tiny box.

"You have better plans?" Bruce asked, a little offended.

"My boss has been missing for two days. Which means, in this town, that I should start by looking at the bottom of a river." Rachel's face changed into a mask of annoyance, presumably at Bruce's 'selfish' nature as she perceived it. Jane resisted the urge to roll her eyes – Rachel, while admirable, was denser than she believed. What she did see was that fleeting glance Rachel gave Jane. As if she was accusing her of having something to do with the attorney's disappearance. Granted, Jane did have a history with the mob, but hadn't she – and Alfred – semi-assured her that she wasn't on that side of the law anymore?

Jane tensed, but didn't say anything. Bruce was about to say something when Rachel's phone rang in her pocket. Rachel excused herself, rummaging through her bag before pulling out the cell phone, quickly pressing it to her ear. "Rachel Dawes….Who authorized that?...Get Crane down there _right now _and don't take no for an answer. Call Dr. Leeman and tell him we'll need our own assessment on the judge's desk by morning."

"What's wrong?" Jane piqued at the mention of Crane's name. Bruce gave her a knowing glance, but Jane kept her eyes boring into Rachel's, who glared at her.

"It's Falcone. Crane's moved him to Arkham on suicide watch." Rachel rolled her eyes, addressing the two. Though she seemed a little stand-offish with Jane, for some reason she shared this information.

"Falcone's not suicidal," Jane shook her head vigorously. "I can attest to that." Now that she didn't have to keep her cover for Crane – he wasn't on her side any more – she didn't care about anything like that anymore. It was time to put Falcone where he needed to be. To hell with what she had previously thought. Crane was up to something, and Jane would do whatever it took to get back at him for what he did to her. If that meant throwing Falcone even more on the bus, then so be it.

Rachel gave her a surprised look. A smile slid across her face, eyes pleased. "You can't go to Arkham now, Rachel. It's in the Narrows." Bruce protested, shaking his head in disappointment.

"I'll go with her." Bruce's head shot towards Jane, shocked that she would want to go back to Arkham after everything that had happened there. She looked at him reassuringly. Jane could take care of herself. Crane would probably never do anything with Rachel or anyone else like that around. And if she could get close to Falcone, she could probably make him spill about what happened in that interrogation room that day. "I worked at Arkham and know everyone. No one would even stop us if we went in. I'll need to go by my house and get some clothes, though."

Rachel nodded her head animatedly, shoving the phone back into the purse. Her hand reappeared with the jangle of car keys. "No," Bruce protested more harshly, this time glaring daggers into Jane. "You two should not go down there. It's dangerous."

"You enjoy your party Bruce. Some of us have work to do." Rachel smiled falsely, turning quickly. She walked out the house hurriedly, waving back to Jane for her to follow.

Jane turned now to face Bruce, whose jaw was clenched tightly. "We'll be fine, Bruce. I'll keep her safe. Crane caught me off guard then. I'll have my knives and my guard up. Trust me." She placed her hand on his arm. Though he didn't relax, his eyes flittered down to her hand there before looking back up at her, much like she had done earlier.

With a smile, she ran after Rachel, leaving behind a pissed off Bruce Wayne.

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**P.S. for those of you who haven't entered college yet (I'm a freshman) : Learn to like coffee. I hated it, but now I'm addicted. The only way I'm able to stay awake in those 8 o'clock classes.**

**LEAVE ME LOVE :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: We're almost finished you guys! Just four more chapters! From your reviews and PMs, I see that a lot of you like the fluff. All I can say is: I consider the upcoming chapter pretty damn fluffy and the first few of the sequel as well. I'm currently writing Chapter 5 - a little behind, but hopefully I can catch up this weekend. Thank you to all who review/favorite/follow: you guys are coated with awesomeness. Leave me some love so that I know you're here and we can be come BUDDIES. :D**

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"What kind of relationship do you have with Bruce?" Rachel asked, staring straight ahead as she drove her car through the Narrows. Her eyes were shifty, taking care to observe everyone around her as she went. Almost as if she was investigating a crime scene before a court trial. In fact, the question itself came out interrogatory in tone.

"We're merely business partners," Jane replied. "He's helped me out of some tough situations and I've helped him out of some of his own."

Rachel snorted. Giving her an incredulous, funny look, she shook her head. "What kind of problems could Bruce Wayne have?"

Jane resisted the urge to give Rachel a nasty glare. For someone who had Bruce's heart, she knew very little about him. Maybe the Bruce prior his complete transformation into the man he was today wouldn't have any problems, but not now. Rachel only knew that kid she grew up with – the old, young, naïve Bruce. Not the strong vigilante he was today. She seemed all to eager to buy into the lie Bruce had come up with. That, in Jane's opinion, was fucked up. Rachel should be insightful in this sort of thing. She did have to spend most of her time in a courtroom and examine body languages and lies of her suspects, did she not? Surely Bruce wasn't much of an enigma.

Yeah, Jane hadn't come close to figuring out who Bruce really was. But she didn't know the guy. Before recent events she had only met him once. Pictures and articles that she never read didn't give her anything to go by. All she knew about him was that he was a rich orphaned boy. That was it. That was the expanse of her knowledge of the old Bruce. A little brave, a little arrogant, and a little naïve about the way the world worked. She hadn't had the privilege of growing up with him like Rachel had. Bruce considered Rachel a close friend – how could she just so aptly believe the lie?

Her belief annoyed her to no end. "I think you'd be surprised." Jane replied cryptically. Rachel gave her another glance.

Rachel made a quick stop by Jane's apartment. Jane ran upstairs quickly, changing into her ordinary day-to-day clothes. She was a little miffed that she wouldn't be able to get dressed up for Bruce's party. Having been looking forward to actually putting an effort into her appearance gave her a girlish thrill, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed. Maybe some other time if she and Bruce were still friends he would invite her to another party. Hopefully there'd be a next time… She found she enjoyed Bruce's company, well, a lot.

Jane felt secure in the knowledge that Bruce wouldn't leave them alone. He would come to them and keep them safer. Jane knew him well enough by now that he wouldn't trust the two women to go into Arkham without watching them. He would be in his batsuit undoubtley, being a silent protector to them as they went into the asylum. Even though she had the comfort of her gun in the waistband of her jeans and the other in her right boot, she still was a little anxious about seeing Crane again. The man terrified her. What was scarier was that Crane knew the effect he had on her. It gave him substantial power. Far exceeding the limit that made her comfortable.

Being true to her word, no one questioned the two determined looking women that marched into the asylum. As the two rounded a corner, Jane leading the way to the suicidal watch unit, she saw out of the corner of her eye Eric. Jane halted immediately, turning quickly to rush up to the man. When he saw her, his eyes widened knowingly and he met her halfway down the hall.

"Jane," he hissed, looking around. Eric placed a hand on her arm and pulled her closer to the wall. "Crane said that you quit. I've been trying to call you for the past few days and you didn't answer. Do you have any idea how worried I was? I knew you wouldn't just quit like that without letting anyone else know. What happened? What did Crane do to you?"

She waved his concern away. "No, Eric, I didn't quit. Crane just made sure that I wouldn't come back. He discovered that I was onto him about what was going on in the basement," Eric's eyes widened, "but I'm fine. A very good friend has been taking care of me. Don't worry," she winked at him. "I can take care of myself." Jane didn't think he needed to know about the rape. To be completely honest, she didn't want him to know either. That situation was something that didn't need to be spread onto the knowledge of everyone in Gotham. Hopefully, she could keep it between her and Bruce. Crane still had his good doctor image to keep up, so she didn't think he would say anything about it. Not unless he wanted her and Batman to come after him.

Behind her, Jane could feel Rachel's confusion oozing off of her. She had a feeling she might be bombarded with questions about what, exactly, was going on. Especially if Bruce was involved. She would deal with the curious woman later. Right now, she had to figure out what was going on with Falcone and Crane.

"It's been crazy these past few days," his voice lowered to a gentle whisper. Even though they were alone in the hall, he wanted to make sure they wouldn't be overheard by anyone lurking around anywhere. "Crane's been very distant. More so than he has a right to be. Most of the time, he's not even in his office, and when he is, I think he's on the phone with someone. I haven't been in there lately, but something feels very, very wrong."

"I'm getting to the bottom of it. Sooner or later, I'll figure out what Crane's doing. Something in my gut tells me it's more than a little experimentation on a few inmates. It's probably something big. Bigger than Arkham."

"What are you talking about?" Rachel interrupted, stepping around Jane so that she was standing on the outside beside Eric and Jane. Her eyes were narrowed, lips pursed, and arms folded strongly across her chest. "I thought we were here to just see Falcone."

"I'll explain everything to you later." Jane said hurriedly before looking back to Eric. "Where's Falcone? Is he in the suicide watch room? We heard that he was here and need to speak to him quickly."

Eric's face scrunched up in thought. "Carmine Falcone? Yeah, he's here. Come on, I'll take you to him. He came in just a few hours ago and they took him straight to the back in isolation." Eric began to move down the hall and the women followed him. "Thought it was kind of weird, you know, for him to be here. Doesn't seem like the crazy type from what I heard, but when he came in, he was all…_strange_. Like others, he muttered about a scarecrow. Seemed absolutely petrified." He shot Jane a knowing glance. "Crane must have used whatever it is on him at the jail. He wasn't here when Falcone was brought in. "

"Did any of the people that brought him in say anything about Crane changing his drugs?" Jane asked as she quickened her pace into a near-run to keep up with the broad stepping orderly. Behind her, the click of Rachel's heels sounded and Jane knew she too was hurrying to keep pace.

He shook his head, turning a quick corner. "I know one of the officers who came in with him. Thing is, Falcone's not on any medication. In prison, he wasn't even given a Tylenol. _Nothing_."

"Then he must have drugged him when Crane consulted with him at the jail. Falcone was seeking the Insanity plea and Crane went to diagnose him," Jane said hurriedly. "Crane went in there alone – I was with him – and Falcone seemed perfectly fine before. When Crane came out, Falcone was screaming bloody murder. That must have been when the drugs got into his system!"

"But pills don't absorb into system that strongly in a matter of a few minutes. He must be using something else…Something that can be absorbed quickly."

"A liquid?"

Eric's brow furrowed in deep thought before he shook his head again. "Could be. But I don't think so. Here's Falcone." The group pulled up short at a room, a glass window looking into where Falcone lay in a jumpsuit strapped to a chair. His body trembled every now and then. Jane could tell from even this far back that Falcone's eyes were wide with fright, head shaking, and lips muttering something. "He's been talking about scarecrow ever since he got here." His beeper at the side light up, vibrating loudly at his side, and he rolled his eyes as he unclipped it. Checking the screen, he frowned, and looked back up at the women. "Sorry, but I have to get back to my job. Watch yourselves."

When he left, Rachel quickly turned to Jane, eyes narrowing. "What's going on, Jane? What about drugs? What's Crane doing?"

"Now's not the time." Jane said, hearing the tell-tale sign of Cranes voice from down the hall. She placed a hand on Rachel's arm, pulling her so that she could whisper into her ear. "Listen, don't let Crane think _anything_. Understand? You're clueless in this. If he so much as suspects….well, it's not pretty."

"I _don't _know anything." Rachel jerked her arm out of Jane's grasp. "So it's not like I can say or do something to lead him on. But you better promise me to tell me everything when we get out of here, understood?"

Jane nodded fervently just as Crane rounded the corner. He put his glasses on, eyes zeroing in quickly on Jane. She met his gaze strongly, holding it as if nothing that had happened between them even had. To her, it was over, done with. She would deal with it at a later date. For now, she was strong. Though seeing him again put a blow into her resolve, she fought and retained her strength, pushing all of the guard she had into her eyes so they met his evenly.

Crane's eyes slid from hers to Rachel. "Miss Dawes," he said warily as if he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. "This is most irregular. I have nothing further to add to the report I filed with the judge." The overhead lights beamed off of the frames of his glasses, prohibiting Jane from reading his expression.

"I have questions about your report." Rachel was cool, collected.

He sighed. "Such as?"

"Isn't it convenient for a fifty-two year old man who has no history of mental illness to suddenly have a complete psychotic breakdown just when he's about to be indicted?" Jane resisted the urge to smile smugly, thinking Rachel sounded very lawyer-ly at the moment.

"Well as you can see for yourself there is nothing _convenient _about his symptoms." His jaw tightened with annoyance. Obviously Rachel was getting to him.

Rachel turned to look at Falcone. Crane then zeroed in on Jane, a knowing smirk on his face. He was the normal Crane now, she knew, not the freak who had overpowered her before raping her. Still, that crazed glint in his eye appeared for a split second, trying to put her in her place. She refused to back down though. Glaring at him even more, she stepped closer to Rachel in a protective manner, crossing her arms over her chest and slouching on one leg. A challenge.

He smiled. It was creepy, every bit as insane as he was. Crane seemed to like that she was defiant of him. He was probably diagnosing her right now, as he always seemed to want to do. As she tilted her chin up a tad, she conveyed everything she wanted to say through her glance. _Fuck you._

"What's _scarecrow_?" Rachel asked flatly, and Crane was forced to turn his attention to Rachel.

"Patients suffering from delusional episodes often focus their paranoia on an external tormentor. Usually one conforming to Jungian archetype. In this case, _scarecrow_." Jane noticed something strange. His demeanor had changed slightly. Crane became…distant. Tense. She narrowed her eyes, studying his body language more.

Rachel raised her eyebrows, clearly not fully understanding what Crane just said. "He's drugged?"

"Psychopharmacology is my main area. I'm a strong advocate. Outside, he was a giant," he looked to Falcone, "in here only the mind can grant you power."

Rachel gave him a look of disgust. "You enjoy the reversal."

"I respect the mind's power over the body. It's why I do what I do."

"I do what I do to keep thugs like Falcone behind bars. _Not _in therapy." She began to walk past Crane towards the elevator, Jane following her while giving Crane a glare the whole way. Punching the elevator button, she turned back to face the doctor, who had slowly made his way closer to them. "I want my own psychiatric consultant to have full access to Falcone – _including _blood work to find out what exactly you put him on."

"First thing tomorrow then," he replied tersely.

"Tonight," she said and Crane's head quickly snapped to glare at her. "I've already paged Doctor Leeman over at County General." The elevator doors slid open and Jane joined Rachel in the elevator cart, smugly looking as Crane fumbled for a reply. She was a little surprised as he stepped into it as well, and Jane stepped to the back of the other two. Jane heard the jingle of keys.

"As you wish," Crane said, his body blocking her from seeing what he was doing. The doors drew together, sealing the three of them in. The cart went downwards, to the lower level parking garage where Rachel parked her car earlier. Instead of stopping though, as she expected, the cart continued on. Jane looked up at the monitor in confusion, and she gasped audibly as she saw that they passed the garage.

They were heading towards the basement.

If Crane heard her, he did not acknowledge it. She didn't know what he was planning, but something about Rachel had set him off and now he was going to make her pay. The cart stopped. Obviously, Rachel was not paying attention, for when the doors opened and Crane stepped out first, she followed blindly. Jane quickly reached out for her, but Rachel stopped, looking around in bemusement at the dilapidated part of the building.

"This way, please." Crane muttered. He began to move towards where Jane knew the factory was. Jane lurched forward, grabbing her gun and pulling it out. With one hand clutching the metal, she grabbed onto Rachel's shirt.

"Rachel, no!" She screamed. The fabric closing around her fingers, Jane lurched Rachel back, pushing her into the cart. Doors dinging, they began to slide, closing. She was just about to move into it when Crane's hand wrapped around her neck, pulling her away as the doors closed in. Rachel watched in horror, eyes wide and mouth agape as Jane was held back by Crane.

Jane lifted the gun over her shoulder, shooting blindly. It was a stupid thing to do, but she was desperate to get his clammy hands off of her. The shot went wild, clanging against what she knew was a pipe. Crane squeezed harder, growling in her ear as he batted away the gun. It skittered across the floor, disappearing from her hand, and her body was thrown forward. She collapsed against the elevator door, quickly whirling her body around to face him.

He had donned a sack. It stared at her crudely; his bright blue eyes the only recognizable thing underneath the horribly stitched mask. Her eyes widened in horror, her body slinking further into the wall away from him. _Crane _was Scarecrow. It wasn't an internal, negative force, but an outside agitator. Crane was what the people feared. Dressed in the mask, he was someone else entirely, the cruel being who had brutally assaulted her and possibly countless others. Jane's body lurched to the side, her flight instinct taking over, and she began running frantically down the opposite end of the hall, away from the factory and towards where she had been imprisoned that one day.

She heard his taunting chuckle behind her. Ignoring it, she pounded away, muscles screaming in exertion and adrenaline pumping through her veins, speeding her forth as she skidded and raced down the concrete halls. It was futile, she knew. Jane knew not where she was going or what lay further down the hall, but her fear of being violated again took over. She would not let it happen again. Never would she feel as helpless as she had that one time. She would run to the ends of the earth if need be. But he would not have her. Not again.

To reach down and grab the spare gun tucked into her boot didn't enter her mind. The only thing she could do was _run_. And run she did. When momentum forced her body to run at the wall, she threw her hands up so she wouldn't smack completely into it. Pushing off, she almost fell completely forward, and she stumbled loudly, fingers scraping the concrete as she continued onwards.

A man stepped out from the shadows at the door, and she couldn't stop herself as she ran into him, her body colliding with his hard, muscular one. Immediately, she scrambled, trying to get away from him as his arms shielded around hers. His breath in her ear, he forced himself close to her. "Got ya. _Bitch_," he whispered. Jane grit her teeth, worming her arms between the two as she tried to pry them apart. The man merely chuckled, holding to her as if she were a mere doll.

"Let go," she hissed before rearing her arm back and throwing a well-placed punch into his jaw bone. He flinched, cursing low under his breath before kneeing her in the stomach. She sucked in a breath that didn't make it to her lungs. She sputtered as the pain blossomed there, doubling over into his body as he began to walk, unaffected by her defensive maneuver. Her head on his shoulder, she gasped and floundered much like a fish, choking on bile that tried to force its way out of her throat.

Vision blackening, she managed to suck in one grateful, blessed breath. He was carrying her completely now, like Crane had before, and she was struck with the horror that she felt prior. What would Crane do to her now? There was no way she could escape. In the position she was in now, she couldn't reach down and grab the gun. The man's arms tight around her, she could barely even breathe as he held her to him, making his way back the way in which she came. He was going to the factory room. Back to Crane. Back to the horrors.

"I hope he lets me have you," the man chuckled into her ear, lifting one hand to stroke her hair. She cringed, unknowingly setting off a delicious shiver down his spine at her fear. "I wanted you when I first saw you on that table. All splayed open and bleeding. I bet your cunt is so tight…_Damn_. I can't wait. He promised me, you know? Said if I were the one to catch you that I could have you first." He buried his face in her hair. He breathed in her scent, his beard scratching against her neck.

"You won't have me." She bore between her teeth, trying to sound as brave and strong as possible. Though fear practically oozed out of her pores at the thought of being raped again, she was determined to remain as she normally was. "I'd die first."

"Death isn't going to stop me. Though it wouldn't make it near as pleasurable. It's always more fun when you scream."

She shivered in disgust. "You're sick." He said nothing, merely laughed heartily as he pushed open the doors to the factory. Jane again tried to squirm her way out of his grip to no use. She was in the factory again, once more feeling the eyes of every man on her. This time, thankfully, she was fully clothed. Her body jolted a little as he went down the stairs then tossed her onto a concrete table. Jane quickly reached for her gun, yanking it out and shooting the man. Her aim was off, and it merely grazed the side of his arm, but it buried itself into the man standing behind him.

"You little _fuck_," he screamed, punching her in the right shoulder. Pain flared there, and she had to grip the gun harder so it wouldn't drop. He reached down, grabbing it and easily yanking it from her grasp. In a second he had it whirled around facing her, pointing to the middle of her forehead. His lips were pulled back, his teeth shining in the low lighting scarily as he snarled down at her, much like a dog. Jane stilled instantly as the sight of looking down the barrel of a gun. Her eyes were trailed on the black circle. She was prepared for the yank of the trigger, the sudden pop of gunfire, but not the feel of the bullet through her brain. Most certainly, she wasn't prepared for death either.

"No, no, no." Crane said, suddenly appearing at his side. The man dropped his arm, stepping away from Crane as if he, too, were scared and creeped out by the doctor. Rightfully so. With the donning of the mask and the new persona, Crane was all the more terrifying and strange than before. Jane took in a shaky breath, her arm sill pounding from where he had punched her. "We're not going to let her get out that easily."

She began crawling up the length of the table, scooting back so she was as far away from Crane as possible. Flashbacks of the last time she was in here went through her mind, causing her breath to quicken and throat to clam up. She didn't want to go through that again. She didn't want to feel Crane against her any more than she wanted to die. But to go through the repeated humiliation with the others? Death was welcome when it came down to it. She refused to beg though. At this moment, her resolve was still strong. Batman should appear soon. He wouldn't leave her down here like this.

Crane turned his attention back to her. With the mask covering his face, she couldn't gauge his expression. So when he lifted his hand towards her face, she didn't expect for a white spray to release from it. She instantly closed her eyes against it, but made the mistake of gasping in surprise as the spray settled into the air around her. Sucking in a good mouthful, she choked on it for a moment before swallowing it down. It tasted bitter on her tongue.

When she opened her eyes, a scream tore through her throat. Crane's face was no longer masked by a bag, but rather, by a layer of maggots crawling across. She screamed again, closing her eyes as panic overtook her. Everywhere, she sensed bugs crawling on her skin, burying violently into her flesh and eating away at her. She fell back onto the concrete table, writhing in agony as she felt the creatures tear into her, biting her with their teeth. Jane began to cry out. Her heart racing, she used her hands to scrape at her skin in order to get the bugs off.

She lifted her hands to tear at her face and hair when two strong arms grasped her wrists, holding them to her sides. "Who knows you're here?" Crane hissed above her. Her eyes squeezed shut, she shook her head violently. _Pain. So much pain_. It felt as if she were being ripped apart from the outside. Her mind was in a state of panic, mania overtaking her senses and screams tearing out of her throat. "_Who knows?" _He shouted more forcefully. Jane withered against the table, unable to do anything as fear overtook her.

What was wrong with her? What was going on in her body? All she could feel was the bugs on her skin and the shackles on her wrists. Was she being violated again? Had Crane somehow forced herself inside her? Oh Gods. She was being raped again. She could feel him inside her, thrusting into her. The bugs were in her skin now, no longer eating their way through, but crawling around inside her body. Jane could feel the pain of sex again, fresh and new. She cried out again, kicking wildly to get him off of her.

"He's here." Crane said his voice now calm again. Jane could hear him faintly, though her attentions were still on him inside her. He still banged away against her, his hands on her skin, pushing her down into the table as he violated her lower body. No. She didn't want this. She didn't want him. _Please make it stop. _Jane cried out again as he picked up his pace. He still carried on a conversation with those around him, and bile rose to her throat as she realized the men were _watching _this happen. Watching her be brutalized right before them. Probably getting off.

She cried out again, though her screams were getting fewer and farther between. The bugs had settled in her body. They were still there, moving around inside, but were not nearly as painful as the amplified feel of Crane's cock inside her. Her lower body clenched around him, trying to squeeze him out, denying him entrance, yet he didn't stop.

Crane growled in her ear. Spilling inside her, she felt him remove himself from her. Her wrists were freed from their shackles, and she pulled them to her chest, rolling onto her side as she gasped for air. Body screaming in agony, she opened her eyes. Crane was no longer there with his horrifying maggot-filled face. She couldn't hear anything. Couldn't see anything. Her vision was blurred, shapes dancing around and things focusing randomly as she blinked slowly. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, making her extremely dizzy as she went back to lying on her back.

Gasping, she widened her eyes as black shapes danced around the room. What were they? Where…Wha…What was happening to her? Closing her eyes again, she felt the blackness of sleep surround her. Thick and dark, it overwhelmed her. She nearly succumbed to it when she felt herself being lifted up. The concrete disappearing, she felt her body relax into the grip, falling to the ground. Her head lolled back, arms and legs lying uselessly. She couldn't move. Couldn't think. Closing her eyes, she let her body float upwards into the air towards the peace.

Eyes closed, she heard voices around her. They sounded vaguely familiar but she couldn't place where she had heard them before. Was it…Gordon? Was that who was speaking? And Batman. Batman…or Bruce. Slowly, her eyes slid open and she stared vacantly into the air. Gordon was carrying her. That much she was sure of. How did Gordon get here? Where was she? He looked down at her, his eyes concerned, and she felt that she no longer had the strength to keep them open. Closing them again, she flopped her body back into its prior position. Her breathing was difficult. Chest heaving, she could hear the work her lungs were going through in order to provide that relief throughout her body.

She felt her body bounce in his arms. Where had Batman gone? "C-Crane," she whispered. His maggoty face drifted in and out of her vision, her lower body beginning to hurt and swell from his violation. She knew she was bruised around her hips, still feeling the pressure he had put on them as he pounded into them forcefully. Whimpering, she felt the weightlessness once again take over.

Jane was mindful of being passed over. These new arms were stronger underneath her. A more solid weight that curled around her and held her closely, protectively. She was back on the ground now, secure from the floating sensation. More voices floated about in the air, and Jane blinked her eyes open. She felt herself sliding out of the grip, into a sitting position. Lolling her head to the side, her eyes met hard brown ones for an instant before her vision blurred again. Disoriented, she closed them, groaning as she sank into the seat.

Thunder roared around her. Snapping up, she became conscious as she was startled by the loud noise. Gasping quickly, her eyes widened to focus. Street lights whirled past her. She had somehow made it out of the basement. Now she was in a vehicle of some sort, zooming down the streets at a terrifyingly fast speed. Shifting, she sat up and clutched on the seat beneath her, searching for that grounding sensation as the world zoomed past her. It was frightening. Never had she moved this fast before. The noises were loud in her ear, seeming to be heightened by the sensation of fear. She wanted the driver to slow down – they were going to crash!

"Stay calm," she snatched her head to the direction of the driver and saw that it was Batman. The blackness of the suit combined with the nighttime blurred together like watercolors, and she blinked furiously in order to see him clearly. "You've been poisoned." Why the fuck did he say that? Stay fucking calm? Oh don't worry; it's only a bit of fucking _poison._ Jane's breathing picked up, her chest heaving in and out as she shut her eyes again. Falling back against the seat, she tried to ground herself. Everything was so fast, so mantic.

The vehicle flew from side to side, and she bit down on her jaw in order to contain her panicked cries. She felt the world shift around her, as if she were on a roller coaster. Crane's face kept appearing in her mind. His eyes. His smirk. His touch. His cock. His mask. It all crowded her senses, pushing her past the point of fright and into a whole other world of fear and weakness. She felt as if he were there. She could feel his hands on her again, featherlike, romantic touches that trailed around her.

Oh, how she wanted Bruce. Bruce made everything better. When he was around, things were right in the world. He would chase away Crane. He had to. It was his job. What he wanted to do. Everything seemed to be more peaceful and calm whenever his presence was around her. Never had things gone awry when he was there, unmasked to her, fully and completely in his element. It was his touch that she wanted to haunt her, his fingers lacing through her hair and on her body. Him and only him.

He wouldn't violate her like Crane had. Or would he? Suddenly, Crane's face was replaced by Bruce's. He stared down at her with a smug arrogance that made her cower against the seat. It was his hands that drew her hips further down towards his. It was Bruce that filled her, hurting her. She cried out against him, begging him to stop, but he merely laughed at her. His face contorting into a hard mask of anger and determination, he sought out his pleasure only, not caring that he was hurting her. When he bent low to her ear, he called her things like _whore_. He was angry. Angry that she betrayed him by going to Crane. Crane had had her before he did, and Bruce didn't like that. Bruce didn't like that she had gotten herself into trouble. That she had been weak, not defending herself properly.

Why was he acting this way? She hadn't meant to hurt him. She didn't want to anger him. This…This wasn't Bruce. Bruce wasn't cruel and mean like this. Screaming, Jane batted her hands, battling to get him off of her. Maybe she could get sense through to him. Make him stop this attack. Her hands crawled at empty air, going straight through him. Her body was thrown into the side of the vehicle, jerking with the rough movements and bouncing from side to side. She was hurting, her head pounding as it made contact with the window. She cried out from the pain.

She felt her vision fading, and her eyes relaxed, opening before fluttering closed again. She felt like she was floating again, rising out of the seat and into the open air above. Blackness swirled around her, mixing together and she felt herself sliding down the leather. Her body squeaked against the seat, her shirt rising up to expose the skin of her back. She was fading. Floating higher and higher into the sky, the world disappeared beneath her. No longer secured by grounding, she panicked as she soared above.

"Jane!" She heard Bruce scream after her just before the darkness enveloped her.

* * *

**As you can see, pretty close to how the movie was in a way. I really wanted to experiment with how the drug worked because I was fascinated with it in the movie. What did they see? What did they feel? What kind of fucked up things happened? Weird? Yes. But I wanted to play around with it. LEAVE ME LOVE :D **

**Since I'm updating a day earlier, I will not be posting until Tuesday. I know, I know, my updating mess gets all screwed up sometimes because I get REALLY EXCITED about your reviews. So, you know, if you leave me lots of love, I may post again tomorrow... **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Remember when I said I wasn't updating until Tuesday? Yeah, I lied. This is a calm chapter. Oh, and did I mention slight fluff alert? :)**

**Thank you to those who review/favorite/follow! You bring smiles and smiles and keep me motivated to continue writing. Huge hugs to you :D**

**Also, I need to remind you that this story is rated 'M'. Just throwin' that out there. ;)**

* * *

Jane's eyes slowly peeled back, revealing the world around her little by little. The sounds of little wings flapping echoed, as well as a few tiny squeaks. The panic was no longer there. Her mind was clear, normal almost. Smiling faintly, she slowly lifted her upper body so that she sat up on a small couch. Her mind was her own now, no longer clouded by whatever Crane had given her. She felt as if a weight was lifted off her shoulders, gravity the only thing holding her down as she floated in sereneness. It was a different weightlessness than the one she experienced under Crane's drugs.

She was in a cave. It would have been pitch black if not for a few lights hanging from the top or littering the surfaces of a few steel tables. There was a waterfall somewhere; she could hear the sound of the water rushing and slapping against the rocks. No floor. The exposed rock was leveled in some places to provide safe, flat surfaces, yet was allowed to naturally rise and fall in others. It was a remarkable renovation that perfectly blended the natural world with industrial strength and reinforcements in harmony.

Standing on shaky legs, Jane wrapped her arms around themselves. Clad only in a white wife beater and her skinny jeans, she was a little chilly as it was cold in the cave. Not unwelcome though. She would rather be cold than be under the influence of the terrifying drug Crane had given her. Or worse, dead. Her legs weren't sore, neither were her lower regions. So she had imagined both Crane's and Bruce's rape. The drug must have brought about her deepest fears – the fear of being forced upon again as well as being eaten alive. She shivered from the memories. The coldness in Bruce's eyes haunted her even though she knew she had imagined it. It wasn't a look that suited him at all and she was glad that she never had to worry about seeing it again. There had been the bugs as well, the pain of being ripped through. Torn apart piece by piece from the inside out in pure agony. The feeling of being weightless as well. To just continue floating above in nothingness…was horrifying to her. She didn't know she had even feared that up until now. Crane was a sick, _sick _man for doing that to someone. Never had she been more terrified. Now, she was thankful that it was over and that she was alive.

Jane found her shirt draped on a table, and she pulled it on. Her fingers danced along the buttons, but didn't fasten them, leaving the garment draped open. Arms comfortably warm now; she reached up to touch the wrap around her head. She must have hit her head against something. Her skull did have a dull ache to it, a miniscule headache now that she thought about it. It wasn't a throbbing sensation, just a deep…soreness? Not really knowing how to describe it, she shook it off and continued forward. In front of her, there was what looked to be a small, caged elevator. When she looked up she saw the cage itself high above her head. It was faint against the darkness, but when she squinted she could see the lights glaring off of it.

Turning back around, Jane bit her lip as she went back to the couch. The elevator was probably the only way she could get out. Somehow, she knew she was with Bruce. She faintly recalled Batman's figure. And since Batman _was_ Bruce, that meant Bruce had taken her here. To his bat cave. The irony wasn't lost on her and she smiled before sitting back down on the couch. The cushions were soft, but she didn't lie down. Her body wasn't tired, really. Since she knew she was safe again she felt calm. At peace.

A cranking echoed throughout the cave. Her eyes watched as the elevator screeched as it lowered to the floor. Bruce opened the door, walking towards her, smiling as he saw she was awake. Jane felt herself smiling back. Something about his presence…it soothed her even more. Even though the drugs made her think he had harmed her like Crane did she knew he would never do anything to hurt her. Bruce was kind. Crane was not. He wouldn't violate her in that way. Now that she was free of the reins of the drugs she saw that clearly.

"I see you're awake," he said, pleased. Stopping in front of her, he rolled up the sleeves of his black long-sleeved shirt so that they were bunched underneath his elbows. The stretchy fabric strained across his muscles at the top, but hung a little looser around his waist. Arms crossed over his chest, she let her eyes linger on the exposed, muscular forearms before rising to look at the warm brown eyes that twinkled with happiness. To know that he was glad to see her alive and well made her smile even more. "I'm sure you'll be happy to know that not only are _you _safe, but so is Rebecca. She's at Gotham General now, safe and free of the drugs. Crane's locked up in Arkham."

"So it's all over now?" She asked, hopeful. Knowing that Rebecca was finally safe sent an extra feel of jeer down her spine. At some point, she would have to remind herself to go visit the young girl. Rebecca couldn't have been more than nineteen. Hopefully, her mind wasn't too damaged by the drugs and torture Crane had no doubt inflicted upon her. She probably had been through far more than Jane could even imagine – not that she wanted to. What she went through had been horrendous. To think about Rebecca… It only reminded her how much of a sadistic man Crane really was. Standing, she noticed that Bruce's smile tightened unpleasantly at the corners.

He shook his head, the smile now falling from his lips. "I'm afraid not. Crane was a mere pawn. He's been dumping the chemicals into the water system for months now. I don't know what they're planning, but something's going on. He said he was working for Raz Al Ghul…" His face obscured with puzzlement, Jane stepped forward, putting her hand on his cheek reassuringly.

"We'll figure it out, Bruce," she said softly before she let her hand drop. He worried too much. She wanted Crane gone – dead – but as long as he wasn't in Arkham anymore, what harm could he do? He relied on his drugs and the tools the asylum gave him. Now that those were gone, he would have to rebuild everything back up which would take a bit of time. For now, she and Bruce had a little lee-way. Besides, surely the revealing of Crane's masquerade would offset the plans of Raz. "How long have I been out?"

"Two days. I'm sorry that I left. I went to take a shower – Alfred's orders – but other than that, I've been right here by your side." The image of him sitting with her made her frown a little. Had he missed his party because of her? He had to keep up appearances in order to protect his identity. Fucking idiot. Risking everything because of her. She opened her mouth to reprimand him, and Bruce saw this. Chuckling, he patted her arm. "Don't worry, you haven't missed my party. Alfred post-poned it, saying I was 'sick'. Looks like you'll get to wear a dress after all."

"Damn," she faked an angry expression, and then punched him on the arm. Naturally, he didn't do anything other than glare at her even though she put all her reserve of strength into it. She was going to have to train harder now to keep up with him. He was a fucking brick wall. "I bet you're looking forward to that. Where's Rachel?"

"She has the antidote to the drugs, just in case something happens. She's safe though. A guy named Eric who worked at the Asylum is at her house making sure of that. I believe the two of you are friends." She nodded in confirmation. Rachel would be safe with Eric. There was no doubt about that. Even though she didn't know him that well, he was one of the few that she could call a friend. "She was worried about you. Apparently you made quite an impression on her. I can tell you that it's hard to do, so good job. Whatever you did, you did it right."

Jane shrugged. "I did what I had to do. I wasn't going to let her get hurt. Not when I could do something about it. She's the only person who can actually make a difference _legally _in Gotham." Bruce gave her a long look, and then stepped closer to her. Wrapping his arms around her, he tugged her close in a tight hug. Jane's body stiffened in shock at first before she allowed herself to collapse into his warm grip. She put her arms around his body, clutching to him as she put her head on his shoulder. She breathed him in, the masculine scent warming her as much as his body did.

"I thought you were gone again," he whispered into her hair. She closed her eyes. This embrace reminded her of when she woke up in his bed. Normally she didn't want this kind of closeness, this kind of comfort. But her body surprisingly screamed for it, screamed for her to completely fall into him and the stronghold he provided. "Why do you try to scare me so?"

Words danced on her lips, but instead of speaking, she stepped away. She didn't want to say something she would regret. Now was not the time for startling revelations. "I only scare you as much as you scare me," she said in a hushed tone. The words surprised her as much as they did him. Did he really scare her? No, but the potential rejection did. Jane was terrified of accepting the warmth that bubbled inside her when he was around. She was safe, secure, relaxed around him and that alarmed her. Her guard was slowly lowering, allowing the potential for deeper feelings to come about.

Love. She could love him. Fully and completely, she could allow herself to care more for Bruce than she cared for anyone else. Even herself. The idea that she would have what her mother and father had before the two separated was…what was it? Did she want that? When she saw what that closeness and love had done to her father, Jane had sworn to herself that she would never allow herself to do that. She wouldn't fall in love. Ever. And so far, it hadn't been difficult to not do. Bruce, though, he was pushing away her resolve bit by bit, and she hadn't even known him for that long.

Biting her lip, she looked into Bruce's eyes. Yes, if she wasn't careful, she could fall victim to those warming orbs. They sparked something deep inside her mind, heart, _soul_. Not to mention that heat that burned in her lower stomach, that yearning for physical and emotional connections that would only tear down her walls completely. If she wasn't careful, Jane would become absorbed by him. Bruce was dangerous in many ways. But the most dangerous part? The part that frightened her to her core? Falling in love.

Not wanting that hurt, Jane tried to push down those emotions that bubbled inside. She thought of her father. The sight of him crumbling in internal anguish when her mom left. He had never been able to get over that deep hurt, having a part of him ripped away. All love did was hurt. It hurt deep. It wasn't something physical, something that she could get over. It struck the person to the core, tearing out a part of them that was sacred and leaving them with a bleeding heart that grew heavier with nothing but pure grief.

Yes, she had to be careful. She had to watch what she said, what she did. Bruce would only hurt her in the end. Or she would hurt him, which would hurt her in turn. It would be a cycle of tears and pain. Neither of which appealed to her in the least. Stepping back, she put a bit more distance between the two – figuratively and emotionally.

"I would like it very much if you were to accompany me to my birthday party as my date." Bruce said. "We can share in the pain of dealing with the aristocratic air of Gotham's elite together. Maybe if we're together, it'll help the time go by much faster."

"I'd love to go with you," Jane smiled reassuringly at him. "That's what friends do." There. She drew the line. Bruce blinked, his expression falling a bit in confusion and….was that disappointment? Hope surged through her but she slapped it down immediately. She couldn't feel that. Shouldn't. She was just mistaking it for something else. He wasn't disappointed. "I need to get my make-up at home. So I'll probably get the dress from Alfred then take it to my house and get ready. I can hail a cab over." Seeing his face start to harden in anger, she put her hand up to stop his protests. "This time, I promise, nothing will happen."

"Forgive me, but last time you said that, you were heavily drugged and almost died." Bruce's tone lacked the warmness that it held just a few seconds before. His lips were set in a hard, thin line, accentuating the sharp angles of his face.

Jane strode towards the elevator, stepping around him so she didn't touch him as she went to the cage. "I know that you don't think I can take care of myself, but I can. Sure, it hasn't worked out for me recently, but Crane's gone. I have no one left that wants me hurt. Just get me out of this cave so I can go, please."

"I didn't mean any insult, Jane. It's just…I don't know what I would do if you came back harmed again."

She turned and faced him, caught off guard by his words. He cared about her. Deeply. They were in dangerous territory now. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. "I'm not going to come back harmed. Like I said, there's no one I'll have to protect myself against. Nothing will happen." She moved to the far corner to give Bruce enough room inside the cage.

He was tense, but he relented, not saying another word as he closed the door. Jane could tell he was angry, his shoulders right, lips still pursed in an angry line. He probably saw the futile argument he would get into. Jane was stubborn, just as much so as any other woman in her position could be. She wasn't going to let him protect her any more. If he did, she would open up even more. Jane needed to slip back into that business partner mode.

* * *

A few hours later, Jane was standing in front of her mirror in her bedroom. Her fingers zipped up the last few notches on the side of the dress, the lines disappearing into the flow of the shiny black fabric. Soothing her hands over the front, she turned to face herself in the mirror. A shocked look covered her face, jaw dropping as she took in her appearance.

The dress was floor-length and all black. A slit ran up the left side, reaching mid-thigh and revealing a scandalizing sliver of pale skin. It wasn't much, just a teaspoon of her leg showing. At her waist was a metallic band cinching in the dress to give her a nice shape. Extending from the band was a thin piece of the same material, stretching over the flat, strapless neckline to widen at her collarbone before wrapping around her neck. It was a beautiful dress, giving her a nice figure yet showcasing the lean muscles of her arms. The metal plate around the torso and her neck contrasted yet blended nicely with the soft black fabric of the dress itself. It was very much her - hard with a feminine softness underneath.

Her blonde hair waved around her face. Her eyes were outlined with dark shadow, giving off a smoky look to make the grey-blue color pop against her pale skin. A simple pair of black stilettos encased her feet. She felt so womanly and pretty. Smiling, she twisted this way and that, admiring the beautiful dress Alfred had picked out for her. She couldn't remember the last time she dressed up like this, or if she ever had, but she loved it.

Grabbing the small black clutch that matched the collar material on the collar band, Jane examined the small purse. It had come in the box the dress had. Alfred had thought of everything, even the tiny little dark grey metal bracelet around her wrist. Her ears were unadorned, as to not draw attention away from the dress. Overall, her look was rather simple, but stunning nonetheless.

With one last look in the mirror, she smiled to herself. She liked looking at herself all dressed up. As shallow as it may be, Jane could appreciate that she actually looked extremely pretty and alluring. Having shorn most of her femininity when she began working for Falcone, it was nice to actually embrace being a woman for once. Even though she lacked the graceful womanly curves, she came to appreciate the soft flaring of her hips, her rounded bottom that she barely looked at even when it was accentuated by the skinny jeans she normally wore. Underneath the baggy layers, there was still a woman there. A strong, leanly muscled woman. A woman who proudly wore a few bruises on her elbows from where she had been grappled by Crane's man. They were fading, a yellow and purple color, but still there they were. She wasn't ashamed of them though.

Her cut from where she bashed her head against the window was concealed by the part in her hair, and the necklace of yellowing bruises around her neck was hidden by the collar. They were hidden, but she knew they were there. Wearing them proudly, she took strength from them. Lifting her head strongly, she pushed her shoulders back and left the apartment. She attracted a few looks from people on the street, but she didn't feel anxious or nervous. A cab quickly came when she hailed it, a lone brave driver eager for a customer in the Narrows.

The drive to Wayne Manor was a long one. The fare was high, but she tried not to think about it too much. Not wanting it to ruin her night, she eagerly stepped out of the cab, thanking the driver, and stepped up the staircase towards the front door. Men in red vested suits greeted her enthusiastically. Their smiles were wide and true. Finding that her own, returning one was as well, she gracefully took one's hand and allowed him to lead her up the steps, the slit in her dress letting her easily walk up the steps.

When she was inside, she heard the sounds of music and laughter floating throughout the home. Alfred was conversing with an older gentleman when she stepped into the house, her eyes taking in the sights of Gotham's socialites chatting animatedly around her. The older butler smiled nervously at her, his eyes running up and down her approvingly. He excused himself, walking towards her.

"Jane, you look marvelous." He commented, and she thanked him, blushing. "Allow me to escort you to Master Wayne. He will want you with him when he makes his appearance."

"He hasn't appeared yet?" She asked, her voice tinged in confusion. She had never been to a party like this and didn't know how they went. To her the thought of arriving late to your own party was a little odd, but then again, the Gotham elite were odd as well.

Alfred gave her a knowing look, taking her by the hand. He led her up the stairs and she knew they were going to Bruce's room. "It is always good to be fashionably late, my dear." He encased her hand which was held in his with his other one, patting her reassuringly. Jane nodded as if she understood. He chuckled, and the pair stopped at the top of the stairs. "Wait here, and I shall fetch Master Wayne." With one last smile, he dropped her hands.

She wondered how Bruce would react when he saw her all dressed up. Would he like it? Or did he prefer her in her day-to-day clothing? Shaking her head, she tried to convince herself that she didn't care what Bruce thought. She felt pretty. That was all that mattered. Moving to the side a little, she twirled her fingers around the wooden banister mindlessly.

Bruce played with his suit a little more before lifting his hands to run his fingers through his hair. He soothed it down a little more like he normally did when playing the playboy part. When he came out of the bedroom, Alfred having disappeared into a room off to the side somewhere, he nearly stopped in his tracks when he saw a tall young woman standing at the staircase. She had a gentle curve to her hips, but her body was powerful and strong at the same time. She stood elegantly, confidentially as she heard his steps and turned to face him.

Jane? He slowed to a stop, his jaw relaxing and eyes widening as he roamed them around her body. She was smoldering in a black dress, her lithe, ballerina-esque figure showcased dazzlingly. As she smiled at him, Bruce couldn't think of many other times in which she looked more beautiful. She had been her most dazzling in his shirt. But this…all confident and embracing of her femininity was a nice change. Jane was _beautiful_. Literally, she took his breath away, leaving his mouth gaping like that of a spellbound school boy.

She laughed, stepping towards the handsome Bruce. The suit accentuated his broad shoulders, and she _knew_ the power underneath the daintiness of the bow-tie and cuff links. This wasn't the real Bruce, but no matter what he never failed to disappoint. No matter if he was in sweatpants, his batsuit, or a tuxedo, he still managed to look as handsome and debonair as possible.

His lips broke into a broad grin, and he held his arm out. She took it, and turned towards the staircase. "You clean up nicely," Bruce commented, though he knew it was a devious understatement.

Jane smiled sweetly. She looked over, roaming her eyes up and down him comically before facing forward again. "Not so bad yourself." Bruce led her to the staircase and the two descended down it smoothly, practically rolling down the steps. She found herself thrilled that he was looking at her that way. In the back of her mind, she registered that it was a dangerous thing, yet she couldn't bring herself to feel anything but flattered. Jane was ecstatic, her mood elated that he was evidently more than pleased at her appearance. She wanted to be perfect. For both herself and for him.

The sounds of the _'happy birthday' _song reached their ears, and she playfully nudged him in the shoulder. He laughed, looking down at her. With the heels, she was closer to his own height. As the couple came into view of the party, Jane felt herself beaming. _She _was on Bruce Wayne's arm. Attending his birthday party. Never would she have thought that she would be here, in this exact position. It was every girl's dream. A little version of a Cinderella fairytale.

No. It wasn't. She had Bruce's attention, but not his heart. But maybe she could…

_Stop_. Jane couldn't just think about stuff like that. A romance just wasn't possible between the two of them. He longed for Rachel, and Jane didn't want to risk her sanity by allowing herself to fall in love with him. Swallowing, she forced a smile back on her lips, allowing herself to drink in the rolling animosity from some of the women that filled the large room. Jane hadn't experienced such jealousy and it startled her for a moment. She should have expected it. She was, after all, with _the _heir to _Gotham's_ _Number One Bachelor_. The heir to the Wayne fortune.

Bruce and Jane came to a solid stop in the archway of the parlor. An older man stepped forward, his arm reaching out to clasp Bruce's. "Mr. Earl," Bruce acknowledged with a smile. So easily did he slink into this lighthearted persona.

"Happy birthday Bruce. I'm afraid I don't have the pleasure of knowing your beautiful guest." Mr. Earl shook his hand, smiling kindly at Jane.

"This is Jane, a very dear friend of mine." Bruce said, turning to face her. She looked up at him, smiling as she did so, which he returned truly. "How did the, ah, stock offering go?"

The two of them talked business for a bit. Technical terms that Jane didn't care to understand. She looked around, observing others around the room. Realizing that she was the center of some attention, Jane tried to stop herself from blushing furiously at the eyes that watched her. She was a stranger to their world. Naturally things would be said. They probably assumed she was one of Bruce's flings, a girl he was sleeping with. A very vivid image appeared in her mind, one that lit her body on fire and she tried to force the not totally unwelcome thought away.

Bruce finally excused himself from Mr. Earl. He led Jane to the center of the room, bending low to whisper in her ear. Brushing her lips there, she felt her body tingle from the contact as he whispered, "care to dance?"

"I can't dance," Jane shook her head, laughing at him. Bruce stood up straight, however, and twirled her so that she faced him. Draping his arm around her waist, he pulled her towards him. Jane stumbled ungracefully into his chest, blushing furiously as their bodies were flush against each other. He wrapped his fingers around hers, interlocking them. Jane lifted her arm to rest on his shoulder, grateful that she was tall enough that this position wasn't awkward in the least bit.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" He whispered as the two began to move to the music. Bruce led, obviously, and Jane followed his motions. It was easy to dance with him, and she nearly became lost with the music as she focused solely on him. It was hard not to as he was the only thing she could see without turning her head to either side.

Jane smiled at his comment, the inner girliness inside giggling with pure glee. "Have I told you how handsome you look?" She countered, beaming at him. Bruce chuckled. Jane's chest swelled, her heart fluttering as he tightened the arm around her waist. His head lowered to hers, resting his forehead against hers. Before he could do anything, she turned her head sharply to the side. She wanted that kiss more than anything in the world, but she couldn't let it happen. She couldn't succumb to that…it would only make things complicated in the end. She had to remain strong in her will to not fall in love. A kiss would open so many doors that couldn't be closed.

It was hard; rejecting what she yearned for so much. Her body longed to touch him. Her lips longed to kiss him. Her heart longed to love him. But she couldn't let herself go down that road. Feeling tears prickle her eyes, she swallowed thickly. Damn she was weak. Getting so worked up over something like this. These…emotions. Damn them to hell.

"Jane?" He asked in confusion. Jane looked over her shoulder at the people around them, broken from the bubble. Bruce lifted his hand at her waist to touch her chin gently. He moved her head so that it faced him again, and he was taken aback at the wetness that was evident there. "What's wrong? Is it Crane?"

Shaking her head, she forcefully swallowed again. It would be easy to place this outpouring of emotions on Crane, but she couldn't bring herself to lie to Bruce. Not after all he had done for her. To do so would be a huge betrayal, and she knew he wouldn't lie to her. That didn't mean, however, that she had to tell him the truth. So, instead, she settled for giving him a watery, false smile. "I'm fine."

Bruce's hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as he frowned at her. "You're lying. Please tell me."

"Tell you what, Bruce?" She whispered, not wanting to draw attention. Jane pulled her head out of his touch, and his arm dropped down before encasing her waist again. They had slowed their movements, no longer dancing about the floor. "There's nothing to tell."

"Something's going on. Why won't you tell me? I can help you. If it's Crane-"

"It's not Crane!" She nearly shouted but stopped herself. Still, the attention of a few people around her was piqued, and she cursed underneath her breath. With another false smile, she stepped out of his arms. Brushing past him, she struggled to rein in herself as she breezed through the crowd. Quickly, she went up the steps, holding the split of the dress open so that her legs could have freer movement. Jane heard Bruce behind her, and she all but ran into his room, closing the door and leaning against it before he could catch up with her.

Tears spilled over her cheeks, running down her skin and smearing her make-up. She wanted to just give into herself and let go. Being with Bruce was overpowering her though. Maybe it was because he provided a safe haven for her, but something about him was so strong. He was like a magnet for her, sucking her towards him. Jane buried her hands in her hair, tearing it a little to focus on something more than the pain in her chest.

Bruce stopped at the door as she closed it in his face. He stood there, confused as to why she had fled from him like she did. "Jane?" He asked again, knocking softly on the door. "Let me in. Let me help you."

"Bruce, please, just go away," she said shakily.

"No. I'm staying right here."

"_Go away_." She hissed and pounded her fist on the door. Why was he so damn adamant to console her? Didn't he see that it did nothing for her? That it only hurt her even more? Jane pushed off the door, wiping away the tears angrily as the door opened. Bruce came in and she whirled around, angry that he had entered even though she didn't want him to. "I said go away."

"This is my room." Bruce reminded her darkly. He closed the door behind him.

"Well I'll go somewhere else then," Jane clenched her jaw and began storming towards the door. Bruce caught her wrist, stopping her from her advancement. She moved to send a punch towards his jaw, but he blocked it easily, holding both of her wrists in his hands now. They were crossed in front of her face, and he yanked them to his own chest. Her body was once again flat against his. Only this time her eyes were alight with pure fury as she glared at him. "Let me go."

"Not until you tell me why you're acting this way." He tightened his grip. It didn't hurt her, but reminded her that he was stronger than her. If she tried to run away again, he could stop her without a problem. Jane yanked her wrists, but they didn't move out of his shackles.

"I don't have to tell you anything."

He growled in frustration. "Why won't you just _tell _me? I'm on your side Jane. I'm not going to hurt you. Why won't you open up and explain what's going on."

Anger filled her. "Fine. You want to know? It's _you_. It's all you dammit. I can't – I can't _think _when you're around. You make me feel shit that I damn well shouldn't. And you know what? It fucking scares me because I know you will never feel the same way about me. You're so caught up in Rachel and I could fucking fall in love with you. That scares me. More than anything Crane has ever done to me. Because unlike that, I can't fight this. I can't…fight it." Her voice weakened at the end. "I can't fight this, Bruce. I can't do it. It hurts too much to be around you and know that you feel so differently about me." She shook her head, pained and broken down.

"You-"

"No. Don't say anything." She cut him off violently, tugging once more at her wrists. This time, he let her go. "_Don't. _I don't want to hear it. I just…I need to leave." Whirling around, she yanked the door open and practically ran out, mumbling an apology as she collided with Alfred. Jane raced down the steps, kicking the heels off, bending down to pick them up before she went out the door. She ignored the curious stares of the partygoers and the workmen, ignoring them as she ran barefoot across the lawn.

When she reached the gate, Jane collapsed onto her knees, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed.

* * *

**Thought you were getting smut, didn't ya? Silly, I'm not going to give it to you this quickly. :D**

**If you would like to see the dress she wears, you can find it on my Facebook profile (all albums related to the story are unlocked) or on my photobucket. I'll post a direct link to it on my profile for you. **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thank you for those who reviewed/favorited/followed! **

**Thank you to McFassy for pointing out the "z" in Ra's Al Ghul's name. I went by what IMDB had. I've changed all of it in these future two chapters, but if I miss one, it'll be aight.**

* * *

Jane sat back on her heels, her knees digging into the soft, grassy earth. The soil flowered around her kneecaps and pushed outwards as she sunk more and more into the ground. Wiping away at her eyes, she hiccuped and tried to stop another emotion onslaught of tears and pain. It was difficult, being that all Jane desired was to roll into a ball and just lay on the cold ground. Wait, no. What she desired more was for Bruce to come after her, hold her tight, save her from this pain like he had before. Cliché? Yes. Stupid? Yes. But she still wanted him. She wanted his presence, desired it and the comfort that it provided. Granted it had not been emotional pain, but still…Jane wanted someone to hold her tight. Someone to tell her that everything would work out. Everything would be okay.

Gods, she was such a _weak _person. How had she fallen so? Ever since Falcone had left, Jane had become such a little girl. She was a young woman, dammit. Not a teenager. Where had the tough Jane gone? She wanted that strong girl back. That attitude. That cunning glance and hardened heart. Too bad that girl seemed too far gone from her reach now. How she would look down on herself. The old Jane would sneer at the woman she had become, probably shoot her to put her out of her misery. Jane used to laugh at women who were moved to tears due to their 'emotions' and 'feelings' – triflesome things that she had pushed away before.

What had happened to the girl that could kill someone in so many different ways? The girl that people looked away from when they were on the streets? People used to _avoid_ eye contact. Both because of her connection with Falcone and because of her damn ruthlessness. She hadn't been this soft, weak, mousy being that she was now, running away sobbing from playboy heirs because of three little words that she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge. She didn't even love Bruce – she just knew that she could. It bothered her immensely and something that she just couldn't fucking understand why it did. Her damn feelings were ruining her. The old Jane would have avoided Bruce completely once she realized just how dangerous the situation could come to be. Perhaps even jam a knife in his back. The girl she was now…she didn't even want to think about it.

Jane rubbed furiously at her eyes. They were mostly dry now, but when she laid her hands back down in her lap she saw they were stained black with her eye shadow. Great. Now she probably looked as crazy as she was. Well good. Maybe people would begin to stay away from her. That was all she wanted – to be feared again. To be the woman she used to be. Could she go back? Was there a way that she could just erase the last few weeks? Maybe even go back seven years ago and actually carry out the deed Falcone instructed her to do? Could she bring herself to kill Bruce? If she had, none of this would have happened. She would have been the same fucking girl that she had been, the same strong young woman.

Shaking her head, Jane knew that she still would have done what she did. Bruce was mostly innocent in this. She had done anything that she hadn't wanted to. Jane had placed herself in the situations, not Bruce. He hadn't forced her to do anything whatsoever. It wasn't his fault that she had fallen so far. This had all been her fault. He hadn't forced her to start opening up to him – Jane had done that all on her own. By slowly lowering her guard, she had subconsciously let down the ones that had been raised from the moment she woke up to realize that her mother was no longer there.

As she wiped underneath her eyes, Jane tried to remove most of the blackened make-up. She tried the best she could with no mirror and being in the mostly pitch-black dark, but she couldn't tell, exactly, how she was doing. She scrubbed around her eyes and then smeared her fingers on the fabric of her dresses. Sighing, she pushed her hands through her hair, leaving them buried in the waves as she tried to even out her breathing. The pang was still deep in her chest, but she was no longer in a sobbing, deplorable messy heap on the ground.

There was no use in just sitting on the grass all night. Jane dropped her arms and grabbed her shoes. Her hair was no longer held back by her fingers and it fell down into her face. Standing, she used her free hand to grab onto the ends of her dress, pulling it up holding it up out of her way. She was about to start walking towards the road when she heard something strange behind her. Was that…people? Interested, Jane strained her ears. It seemed that the people were discontent, angrily talking about something. They were loud – she could hear them even from her position a good bit away from the house. She couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but she could tell by their tones that they were not happy in the least.

Car engines started, the loud gossips now erased from the air while overpowered by the purrs of fancy cars and the roars of limos. Curiously, Jane furrowed her brow, turning to face the brightly lit home. From her point of view, she saw shadows moving about in front of the mansion. People were pouring out of the home, wrapped in sweaters and furs as they chatted, walking to their cars. What was going on? She dropped the skirt of her dress, holding her hand flat above her head to shield the glaring lights of vehicles as they began to drive around the circular drive.

Bruce's guests were leaving? Why? Surely her spat with him hadn't pushed him to just cancel the party. Something must be going on. Unsteadily, she began to walk towards the house again, her need to know what was going on overwhelming the desire to be as far away from the man who caused her so much hurt as possible. None of the guests paid her any attention as she stumbled into view. They were all to absorbed in their own pathetic chatter. Straining her ears, she made out a few words.

"His father and mother would be _ashamed_," one lady abashed, hiking her fur coat around her neck. Was it really that cold? Jane hadn't noticed. "A grown man acting like that at a birthday party. Why, it is most disgraceful. To think of the impression he made on that nice man who just moved here, a foreigner, oh what was his name? Something strange... Ra's Al Ghul. Yes, that was it. Ra's. He probably has a _horrible_ impression of Gotham now." The older woman frowned deeply as two other women nodded in agreement before the group disappeared into a car.

Ra's Al Ghul. Why did that name sound familiar? Jane was certain that she had seen or heard it before. But where? When?

Then it clicked in her mind. Ra's Al Ghul was the name of the man Crane had written on the pad she saw in his office. He was here - in Gotham. The very man that had shaken Falcone and confused Bruce. Her shoes clattered to the ground, and she dashed towards the front door. Her body jerked to the sides as she stumbled, trying to not to run into the socialites. She received serveral rude glares, but ignored them. Something was going on in the house. Bruce wouldn't have just made a scene for no apparent reason. And if Ra's Al Ghul was here there was probably trouble.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

Jane pushed through the doors. They banged loudly on the walls next to her before swinging back. She was already dashing through the house, holding up the ends of her skirt before skidding to a stop in the parlor where the room had been filled not ten minutes prior to capacity with people. It now laid mostly empty, save for a few men who were tearing down the curtains, the rods clattering against the marble floors. None of them looked familiar. She quickly turned, slipping back into the lobby in order to get out of their sight. She careened around the wall, backing up against it, breathing heavily. Crashes sounded throughout the house. It sounded as if Wayne manor was being ransacked. Ripped apart.

Destroyed.

Jane crept up the stairs, trying not to draw attention to herself. Surely Bruce had a gun somewhere that she could use…Without some kind of weapon, she was absolutely useless. Fuck Batman's rule about killing people. Something was happening and she needed to help him. If they were destroying his house then they needed to be stopped. Bruce's life could be in danger.

Her ascent was halted as she smelled smoke. Whirling around, she clutched the banister and watched as the room became thick with a heavy veil. She saw the flickering of flames from the parlor room before a few other men came into the lobby. They threw down matches, lighting fabrics and woods on fire. The men dragged down tables and chairs, busting them into pieces on the floor. Crashes and clangs resounded throughout the home. How many of them were in the house? Looking up, they saw Jane. Obviously, they didn't consider her much of a threat for they merely turned back around and went about their business.

Jane bent to grab her dress and darted down the steps. She had to find Bruce. Even though she didn't have a gun, she would somehow have to make do with the nothing that she had. Feet sliding on the floor, she went in the opposite direction of the parlor – towards the dining room and kitchen area. Thank goodness Alfred had given her the tour when Bruce had been sick. Otherwise she wouldn't have had any idea of where she was going. She bypassed more men lighting things on fire, but they ignored her existence. Normally, Jane would have been perturbed and pissed about that, but she had bigger things to worry about than her pride. Bruce's house was burning and Raz was somewhere. Possibly with him.

"Justice is balance." She heard as she stumbled to a stop in the large hall at the back of the house. With wide eyes, she observed an older man glaring down at Bruce, whom was lying on the floor underneath a burning log. Jane twisted, folding herself behind an overly stuffed chair. She crouched down out of view. "You burned my house and left me for dead. Consider us even."

By peering over the side of the chair, she watched as the man turned from Bruce. He stood tall, expensive finery covering his body. He was obviously the leader of the group that was in the house, none other than Raz Al Ghul himself. Jane bit her lip, waiting impatiently for the right moment to move from where she hid and to Bruce. Revealing herself would probably be suicide. Raz wanted Bruce dead – if he saw that someone was going to try to help him, he would naturally stop them. And by stopping her, he would kill her.

Fuck why didn't she have a gun? If she did she could kill Raz and end this whole thing right now. Normally she had _always _carried a weapon on her. Now she had nothing. Not even a damn knife. Fuck. Jane cursed to herself, leaning up on the balls of her feat as she balanced, holding onto the back of the chair as she watched Raz. His face was turned downwards, eyes thoughtful as he absorbed Bruce's body before him. Damn it, why wouldn't the guy just leave already?

Finally, the man left. Jane waited a few seconds, her eyes on Bruce the whole time. She watched for any movements, jolts that would signal that he was alive or awake. Seeing none, she couldn't force herself to sit still any longer. She pulled herself up. At his side in seconds, she put her hands on the log, pulling up with all of her strength. Gritting her teeth, she slacked for a second, then pulled more. It was too heavy.

Yelping, her hand drew back as flames licked at her wrist. Jane hissed before shaking her hand out. Gripping the log again, she bent low and tried to use her leg muscles to get it off. "Come on Bruce, _wake up_," she pleaded as she pulled on the log. Her breath came in short gasps, arms burning from the exertion. The beam was extremely heavy and solid. If she didn't get it up soon, he would probably suffocate. "Bruce!" She screamed before kicking him in the side. "Wake up, you fucking bastard."

Around her, the flames grew brighter. Stronger. Beams from the ceiling fell, flaming brightly. Jane let go of the wood for a second as the skirt of her dress caught on fire. She stepped on the end, suffocating the flames then grasped the fabric firmly, and pulled it apart. The skirt ripped around at her knees, jagged and freyed ends on a crooked line. Not caring, she wrapped it around her mouth to serve as a mask against the smoke.

"Jane! What have you done to that dress!" Alfred exclaimed. Jane's head snapped to look over her shoulder and she rolled her eyes. He was looking at her in horror, a golf club in his hands.

"Alfred, get over and help me! Don't worry about the damn dress!" Her voice was muffled, but the butler seemed to break out of his trance of horror, his eyes going to where Bruce was. Quickly, he dropped the club and went to the other side of the beam. The home erupted into huge flames now, and a chandelier crashed behind them. Jane dropped to her knees, quickly slapping Bruce's face. "Get up, damn you," she hissed. "If I die trying to save you, I'm going to be _pissed._"

A few more slaps and Bruce opened his eyes. They focused in on the ceiling before sliding over to her. Relief flooded throughout Jane, and she instantly smiled as she saw he was mostly okay. She scooted away from him, standing and reaching down to the log again. Bruce put his hand to the log as well and the three began to pull up on it, trying to get it off. Alfred huffed, "what's the point of doing all those push-ups if you can't even lift a bloody log?" Giving him a dubious look, Bruce grit his teeth and with one powerful push, the three of them managed to move the log off of him. A burning log dropped to the ground not a foot away and Jane quickly reached down to pull Bruce up.

He took her hand, coughing as he inhaled the smoke. Soon, he was on his feet, eyes roaming around the house in astonishment as he took in the fire. Jane turned to look towards the direction she came in, and her face fell as she saw it was engulfed in flames. They were trapped in the burning house.

Alfred tugged on her arm, signaling for her to follow. Bruce wrapped his hand around her wrist and yanked her in an order to follow them as they ran in the opposite way. The three skidded around beams, flames, and pieces of furniture. The house was quickly burning, and Jane's eyes stung from the smoke. Luckily, she wasn't inhaling much of it, though she couldn't say the same for the other two men. As they ran, Bruce kept a firm grip on her as if he were afraid she would fall behind.

They entered the library and Alfred hit a few keys on the piano. A panel slid open, and Alfred stepped into the elevator cart. Bruce pushed Jane in next. Her body crammed against the railing, the metal digging into her skin due to the tight fit. She tried to take up as less room as possible, allowing Bruce to collapse on the floor of the cart in a fit of coughing. Alfred pulled the lever, shooting the cart downwards, sending her hair flying around her head. Jane looked up and watched as fire leached into the open air above them. A few ashes rained down.

The cart jolted as it landed roughly on the ground and the three of them were sent crashing to the ground. Jane landed on her bottom, the back of her head smacking forwards but luckily not hitting anything. Alfred fell out of the cart and it looked as if he were embracing being fully on the ground. Gasping for breath, Jane pulled the fabric around her mouth so that it hung like a scarf around her neck. Now free to gulp in air, she did so, the cool and refreshing air of the cave a welcome relief to her lungs.

When she managed to open her eyes, she saw Bruce's soot-stained face staring upwards to the fire ravishing above. His face was in a state of horror and sadness and shame. "What have I done?" He rasped his voice scratchy from the smoke. He was gasping for breath, and Jane swore she saw tears prickle his eyes. "Everything my family worked for, my father built."

Alfred placed a hand on Bruce's knee. "The Wayne legacy is more than bricks and mortar."

"I wanted to save Gotham… I failed."

The sadness in the statement tugged at Jane's heart. With the fire, Bruce had literally lost everything. Not only was the house now gone, but the family photos and heirlooms as well. Everything that his parents had left behind was up in flames. And for once, he could do nothing to save it. What once had been there was now gone. Soon to lie in ashes on the ground.

"Why do we fall, sir?" Alfred asked. Bruce's eyes casted to the butler, holding his eyes steadily though they were wet with loss. "So that we can learn to pick ourselves up."

"You haven't lost Bruce. Not yet. We're still in this together." Jane said sympathetically. With a small smile, she added, "it's going to take a lot more than a burning building to tear us down."

A watery emotion took hold of the man, and he gave both of the two a look that shook her to the core. It was full of such gratitude and strength. "You two still haven't given up on me."

She shook her head, covering his hand with hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Never."

* * *

Jane tugged at the frayed edges of the dress, looking down at it in deep disappointment. She didn't have any other choice at the time, but she had to admit that she was terribly sad that it had been ruined so. Having taking a liking to it, she hated to see that it was now just something that would have to be thrown away. Shifting, she sighed and plopped back on the couch, waiting for Bruce and Alfred to tell her what their plans were. All Jane knew was that while Ra's had, indeed, come back to set Bruce's house on fire and to kill him, it wasn't the only reason. She suspected as much. If he was dealing with Crane, that meant he was doing something with the drugs as well. Crane, while sinister and smart, probably had not organized this whole debacle himself. He was a pawn. A mere toy for Ra's grander schemes for Gotham.

Her fingers playing along the fabric, Jane thought about all the events that had happened this night. First, she had got all dolled up for Bruce's birthday party. Even though she had only worn it – correctly – for a short time, that scant time still meant a lot to her. For that little time, Jane had been a different person. Someone normal. A woman who hadn't needed to worry about plots, murders, killings, mob bosses, and crazy doctors. She was allowed to be someone that she thought she never wanted to be. While she didn't want to be that woman for forever, it was nice to slip into a different skin to see how the other half might be, if only for a little bit. She had felt like Cinderella at the ball. Dressed and beautiful, dusted off from the grime and grit of the streets.

Secondly, she finally came clean to Bruce that she had feelings for him. It hadn't been voluntary, but now that it was out and the open, she didn't know if things would be awkward between the two or not. Jane knew not whether or not he would push her to the side or if he would try to go back to how they used to be: business partners, strictly. After finally acknowledging it herself, Jane felt a little less conflicted in some ways yet even more so in others. Did she love him? No. Could she love him? Most definitely. Did she care greatly for him? Yes. She had run into a burning building for him. While she didn't think she was in love, that selfless of an act sent off a few warning bells in her system, the same that had banged together since she woke up in Bruce's arms.

And thirdly, the night revealed that something was about to go horribly, horribly wrong in Gotham. She could feel it. It was like an electric charge through the air. Something bit was going to happen, and Jane would witness if firsthand. That much she knew. She didn't know what it was, but she would bet everything she had that it involved Crane's drugs and Ra's Al Ghul. Tonight could very well be the night that Batman came out fully to the public – revealing himself as a true savior to Gotham. Sure, he had managed to do a few things here and there, but his presence was still merely gossip. Whatever happened, by the end of the night, Gotham would know that they had a silent protector of the night.

Leaning back in the seat, Jane looked up just as Bruce strode towards where she sat, occupying the couch she has woken up on earlier that morning. He was dressed mostly in his suit except for the mask. Jane had to admit…the suit combined with Bruce's face…well, it made her want to do things that were probably illegal in most countries. It sent a warm flush throughout her body and she felt her cheeks tingle with embarrassment as she sat up.

"Alfred will stay here with you. I need for you to stay _here_, understand? Don't leave this place or else something might happen. Ra's is going to try to destroy Gotham and I need you out of harm's way." She quirked an eyebrow and he sighed. "Please. Just this once, Jane. I can't keep thinking of you roaming about Gotham on your own with all of the thugs out. Crane and every single crazy from Arkham is running loose in the Narrows. Your apartment isn't safe, and this is the only place where you will be perfectly protected."

Jane stood. She crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a challenging glare. "Oh yeah? If every crazy Gothamite is out there, then you need all the help you can get rounding them up. I'm a great shot and a decent fighter. You know as well as I do that I can hold my own. Plus, I've already had the antidote to the medicine, and Raz is probably using it for something. Crane just wouldn't make that big of a batch for recreational purposes. _Everyone's _going to be experiencing what we did. Gotham will be in chaos. I will be help to no one cooped up here."

"You're not going to be a help to anyone running around either."

"That's what you plan on doing!" She challenged. "Once that toxin gets released, how many people do you think will be immune to it? None but you, me, Gordon, and Rachel. That's _it_. Everyone else? They're going to need to be controlled somehow. The police won't be worth shit once their battling their own demons. Face it, Bruce, you _need_ me. You worry about Ra's, and I'll help Gordon."

He growled, stepping closer to her. He gripped her upper arms in his hands and glared down at her. "I can't have you getting hurt."

"Damn it, Bruce!" Jane sneered as she became more and more angry. "I'm not a fucking damsel! I've saved your life more than you've saved mine. If anyone needs to stay here, then it's you, if that's the way we're playing this. Get that through your fucking brain already. You think I'm going to sit here and watch as Gotham burns? No. I would think that you would know _that_ better than anyone." She paused for a second and took in a calming breath. "I _need _this. I need to know that I'm still your equal. I have to be reassured that I'm not losing myself in this. If I don't go out there to help you, I'm going to regret it every single day of my life. If I die, then at least I die being myself. I've been weak for far too long – it's time that I regain what is _mine_. With or without your approval, I'm going out there. I'm going to do my best to help those people."

Bruce gave her a long look. One of those brooding ones that he normally had, as if he was in some inner turmoil. Slowly, he released his grip. "I'll take you to your apartment. From there, you go straight to Gordon. Don't do anything risky or stupid. If we both make it out of this alive and I found out you tried to play Miss Hero, you'll severely regret it."

His arm snaked around her waist, and before Jane could blink she was crushed up against the armor of his suit. Bruce's lips were on hers in a split second. They morphed to hers, soft and warm to hers. After realizing what was going on, Jane was far too into the kiss to stop it now. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, pulling herself upwards and closer to his body. Her fingers went into his hair. Bruce groaned against her as she tugged at the strands lightly, and Jane gasped as he nibbled on her lower lip, allowing his tongue entrance into her mouth. As she tried to move herself closer, Jane couldn't help but wish that Bruce wasn't wearing the armor. That way, they could both feel the press of each other's bodies against their own. It probably wouldn't change for her though. Bruce was probably just as hard with muscle as the armor.

Jane moved her mouth with his, tracing his bottom lip with her own tongue lightly. He tasted of mint leaves - fresh and inviting. She moved as closely as possible to him, arching her back as Bruce bent down slightly, her neck at a slightly odd yet not unpleasant angle. She could stay like this forever…kissing him and him kissing her back. It just felt so right, so perfect that she couldn't imagine doing anything else right now. His hands at her waist tightened, crushing her lower body to his. Jane was on fire, a slow, burning heat that pulsated, focusing on the area between her legs. She moaned into his mouth as his hand brushed against the curve of her backside, and she bowed into him more, desperately seeking that relief that she knew wouldn't come just yet.

Breaking for air, Jane gasped, her eyes opening slowly. Jane lowered herself back onto her feet, but didn't let go of his hair just as he didn't let go of her. Her heaving chest brushed against his as she tried to catch her breath. She knew her eyes were wild with lust and that fire she felt burning within herself evident in them. As she looked into his, Jane saw that he, too, had that same wild look about him that she felt. So he did desire her. He wanted her just as much as she did him.

Unable to bring herself to regret the kiss, Jane rested her forehead against the cool armor, and she felt his arms raise from her lower back to engulf her in a comforting hug. It dawned on her that this could be the last time that they were allowed to be this close. Either of them could die tonight. With everything that was happening, it was a big possibility. For a second, she felt the fear of the unknown. What if Bruce were to die? What would she do? He was going up against Ra's, and Jane knew he had been overpowered just an hour ago by that man.

And what about her? Jane also had a high chance of dying tonight. If the sun came up and the two were still breathing it would be a miracle. Crane and every inmate of Arkham was creating havoc in the Narrows. The death toll was probably rising now, and it could eventually include the two of them if they weren't careful.

Bruce seemed to be thinking the same thing, for she was pulled even tighter to him. There was practically no other way the two cold be as close as they were now. Jane shifted to that her cheek was on his chest now and she closed her eyes. Such physical closeness should bother her, but she had to admit that it felt extremely nice. Bruce was giving her what she wanted all night – just a tight, reassuring hug.

"Master Wayne, I – oh. Uhm, sorry." Alfred blubbered behind Bruce, and Jane chuckled against his chest, pushing away from him. Bruce turned so that he faced the butler, but tugged Jane by his grip that was still on her waist so that she stood beside him. Looking at him expectantly, the two of them waited for Alfred to finish. Jane was a little glad at the interruption, her thoughts having become a little too gloomy for her, and gave Alfred a smile. "I'm assuming that you and Jane will be taking the Tumbler?"

"How did you know Jane was going with me?" Bruce asked, furrowing his eyebrows together as he looked at him in slight confusion. The old butler chuckled.

"You should have known you were going to lose that argument before you even started it."

* * *

The Tumbler was a huge black tank-style vehicle. One that she recognized from being taken from Arkham two nights or so ago when she was under the influence of the fear toxin. Jane sitting in the passenger seat, she watched with excited eyes as Batman launched the cart over the bridge. Cops stared open-mouthed as they went, and under different circumstances, Jane might have giggled like a little girl. Batman swirled the Tumbler to a stop, fishtailing it. Jane and he quickly got out, rushing up to where Gordon watched with a similar shocked expression.

"Gordon," Jane greeted. The boots she wore had belonged to Rachel. Sometime during Bruce's absence, she had left them when she visited Alfred. Alfred had found a duffle bag with Bruce's exercise clothes and she pulled the huge garments on. The pants kept falling off, so she had abandoned those in favor of the bulky sweatshirt. It covered most of her thighs anyway.

"The Narrows is tearing itself to pieces," Gordon informed Batman as if he couldn't see that for himself. Jane rushed back to join the two, gathering her hair into a ponytail and tying it off with a rubber band she found in the Tumbler.

"This is just the beginning. If they hit the main water supply, the whole city with the toxin there's nothing to stop Gotham from tearing itself apart due to mass panic." Jane said. Back in the Tumbler, Batman had told her what was going on. Crane had formulated the toxin, and had been dumping it into the water supply for quite a while. Wayne Enterprises had a weapon that could turn an enemy's water supply into vapor, and Raz had stolen it. By bringing it into Gotham and turning it on, he would release the toxin that was in the water system, thereby affecting every single citizen.

"How are they going to do that?"

This time, Batman answered. "They'll use the train. The monorail followed the water pipes to the base – beneath Wayne Tower. If they get their machine to Wayne Station it will cause a chain reaction that will vaporize the entire city's water supply."

"Covering Gotham in this poison…"

"I can stop him from loading that train, but I may need your help."

"What do you need?"

"Can you drive stick?" Bruce asked, holding up the keys.

Jane's eyes widened and she snatched them from Bruce's hands. "Oh hell no. _I'll _drive." Throwing a devilish smile to Gordon, she said, "Come on. We have a train to catch."

* * *

**Bada-bing! What kind of trouble will Jane get herself into in the Narrows? FIND OUT ON THURSDAY.**

**I know some of you have questioned Jane's apprehension with getting closer to Bruce. I feel your pain! Haha, but all will become clearer in the sequel. Trust me :D **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: You know I couldn't keep it away from you for that long, right? :P**

**I'm currently writing Chapter 8 of the sequel and haven't even made it to the plot beginning of The Dark Knight. So, it's going to be a mini-sequel that really focuses on spotlighting Jane and Bruce's relationship, shedding light on Jane's past, and also doing what I originally planned and making it so that Jane's appearance in TDK isn't odd. What do you guys think? Either way, I think you'll like the sequel, which for not is titled _Broken_ because it's pretty much JanexBruce, and from what I've noticed you guys really like those parts of this story.**

**WE'RE ALMOST FINISHED. JUST ONE MORE CHAPTER. OMG. **

* * *

Batman disappeared as soon as Jane handled the keys. Looking to Gordon, she caught his curious eye and shook her head. He was probably wondering what the two had going on. She would be too if she saw someone come out of the vehicle with him. "Do you have a spare gun and some ammo?" She asked. Her hands itched to wrap around the security metal provided. She wouldn't be caught off again like she had been with Ra's. Instantaneous relief came when Gordon tossed her his own. He had another strapped to his waist, another probably tucked somewhere else, and she smiled in thanks. Tucking it into the middle pocket of the sweatshirt, she spun on her heel, running to the Tumbler.

A scream erupted from the alley to her left, and Jane saw a looming black shadow over a young woman, violently shaking her against the wall. Tightening her jaw, she whipped out the gun and aimed it at the man. _No killing_, she heard in her mind. Batman and his fucking little justice code. Well, she was working with him now, and she would have to follow his one little rule if she wanted to keep doing it. With a tight frown, she aimed and shot the man in the leg. He cried out, landing on the ground as he clutched his leg, his face contorted in agony. The woman immediately ran away, disappearing back into the alley. Jane hoped the woman didn't run into more trouble.

Pressing the button on the top of the vehicle, the door began to open slowly. Gordon went to the other side where he touched the same area albeit more gently and hesitantly. He was an older man, and new technology wasn't his thing. Jane resisted the urge to smile before sliding into the Tumbler. The door closed behind her and she jammed the key into the slot, starting up the vehicle with a loud roar that echoed throughout the area. Gordon tentatively sat in as well, eyes wide behind his spectacles as his head jerked about, taking in the futuristic feel of the advanced car. Wondering if she had looked the same when she first got into it, she closed both of their doors and strapped on her seatbelt. Probably not. She was too busy dealing with bugs and rape. Shaking her head, she pushed the memory and mental images out of her mind. Now was not the time to think of such things.

Gordon buckled his as well. Raising his walkie-talkie to his mouth, he spoke into it with an air of newfound confidence. "This is Gordon. Prepare to lower the bridge." The reply was lost to Jane's ears as she pushed down on the gas pedal. The Tumbler lurched forward and she hurriedly slammed on breaks, not expecting everything to be so sensitive. She noticed that she had to practically smash on the brake pedal and with a grim acknowledgment; she realized she would have to figure out another way to stop the Tumbler if they were going fast. Gordon scrambled in the seat, dropping the walkie talkie in his lap knuckles white as he clutched the bottom of the seat. His head snapped to hers as the automobile jolted forward again. She didn't stop it this time.

"Sorry. I never got my license." She offered him an apologetic smile. "Thought you might want to know."

"Oh dear God." Gordon breathed out, looking back to the large front window. He clung to the bottom of the seat as if it were a life raft. Snickering, Jane turned the wheel and began speeding towards the bridge. She ran into the mirrors of several cars, shifting gears as she went to send the Tumbler faster and faster. Gordon yelled out in protest as she collided with the nose of a cop car, sending it twirling away from them. He looked back at it, and then gave her a look of aghast as if he were shocked that she hadn't tried to move out of the way. Jane snickered at the image of him writing her a ticket since she 'left the scene'. His inner cop was probably screaming obscenities at her, but he kept quiet.

With a quick check at the GPS system on the dashboard, Jane jerked the wheel to the side. The Tumbler roared down another alley. Being close to the bridge, she came to a sudden realization and slammed both feet onto the brakes. Jolting the wheel to the side, the vehicle spun in a few circles, tires squealing in protest as their bodies were pushed against the seats. Momentum strapped them there like a seatbelt as the vehicle came to an abrupt halt suddenly. Both of them inhaled sharply, Gordon visibly shaking as the Tumbler faced a completely different direction in the parking lot they had somehow winded up in.

Jane grasped that she shouldn't be in the tank. She should be out in the Narrows. She needed to find Crane, incapacitate him, and help out any of the others who were in the streets. Stupid, she scolded herself as she jerked off the seat belt. She should have never gotten into the Tumbler in the first place. Turning in her seat, she faced Gordon, who slowly looked over at her in a little bit of shock.

"Drive the Tumbler to the bridge. Use the guns and bring down the rail way at any cost, understand? It's not that difficult to operate. I need to go out there and help _them_. Do you have any more guns? I'm going to need them more than you do." She held out her hand expectantly.

Gordon blinked at her. "What do you mean you're going out there? It's too dangerous! We're supposed to go to the bridge. Batman-"

"_You_ are going to the bridge. _They_ need help out here. Every crazy bad guy around is loose and rampaging throughout the Narrows. Someone needs to be in there to help those people out. Otherwise, too many people will die."

"Then I'll go-"

"No." She shook her head violently. "You're right – it's dangerous. And you have a family. I don't. You have someone to go back home to. I don't have that luxury. If one of us is going to have to do this, it should be me. I'm not going to let your kids grow up without a father. Now please, give me the guns that you have." Gordon frowned deeply, and Jane sighed. Reaching forward, she wormed the weapons out of his holsters as well as his clip. While she put the spares into the boots, she opened the door and rushed out before he could protest any more. "Remember – take out the bridge. Focus on the support poles and it should come down easily."

As she turned, Gordon called out to her and she stopped, withdrawing the weapon tucked into the pocket of the sweatshirt. "Jane! Be careful out there, kid. Jimmy will never forgive you if you don't go to his birthday party." He smiled kindly at her, moving to sit where she had just occupied. "You're a good person. Don't think any different. A lot of people would be dead now if it weren't for you." The doors slid close with a hiss.

A grateful smile on her face, Jane spun around and began running, merging with the dark and smoke. Behind her, she heard the Tumbler roar to life before it sped away. At least Gordon seemed to be driving better than her. A grin playing on her lips, she held the gun pointing face-up by her head, elbows bent and drawn in to her chest tight. She ran funnily in the heavy boots packed with gun clips and an extra gun, but she managed to maintain a decent speed. It was a good thing Rachel wore a larger size than her or else she wouldn't be able to carry so much manpower with her.

The night at the docks – her last night 'working' with Falcone – flashed in her mind. Like that time, she recalled how she had dashed through the crates. But Jane knew that she probably wouldn't be killed then, with Batman there and Falcone's men thinking she was their ally. Times had changed now, the tables flipped. Right now she could very much die. It was a very real possibility seeing as how she was running into the danger instead of away from it. She didn't have much ammo on her, so she would have to make her shots exact if she ever planned on doing any good whatsoever. But if she could just save one person it would be enough.

"Help!" Someone screamed to her left. It was a man, and when she looked over he was hunched into himself. A stocky inmate in an orange jumpsuit loomed over him, kicking harshly at his side. A rusty old crowbar was held high above his head, and Jane quickly shot at his leg. It seemed to be the best place to shoot right now, slowing movements while not killing the person. The crazy was startled, giving the victim enough time to crawl away as the crowbar dropped from his hands, clattering on the floor.

More screams erupted from further down another street. Jane rushed towards it, stomping heavily onto the asphalt. A familiar figure came into view in the center of the street. He stopped in the middle of the street, his head turned to face her. "Jane! Jane! Is that you?" Eric shouted, and she relaxed, speeding towards him. He had on a doctor's surgical mask and appeared to be normal, unaffected by the toxin in the air. "What's going on? I was in Arkham and everything just exploded. Everyone's escaped and I-"

"I know, I know, Eric, "she held up a hand to stop him. "Listen, I need your help. Do you have a weapon on you or anything?" She looked down at his hands to see he had a baseball bat. Eric lifted it up and she could make out a few scuff marks and blood stains from where it had been used. Had he killed someone? She couldn't debate the morality of it – she had killed people too. And they were in the middle of a fucking war anyway. Just because she had to abide by Batman's rule didn't mean anyone else had to. "Good. You and I need to help these people. They've been poisoned by Crane's toxin – it makes them extremely paranoid and hallucinate horrifying things. I can't really explain it all right now. It's all a huge web of events. Can you help me? Please? I can't do it all by myself and there's no one left on the island that I think hasn't been affected."

He nodded fervently, lifting the bat higher and tightening his grip like he was a baseball player coming up to the plate to hit a homerun. "Yeah, I can do that. I'm not killing anyone though – just knocking them unconscious." Then, he gave her a confused look, his eyes going down to the expert way she held the gun. "Why do you look like a woman from a post-apocalyptical comic book that's going to end up saving the day?" Narrowing his eyes, he scrutinized her further. "You're not just an intern, are you?"

"Well I don't know about saving the day," she chuckled, "but no, I'm not just an intern. Maybe I'll tell you more about me later. Right now we need to fuck shit up for Crane's men or else there won't be any decent people in the Narrows _ever._" Jane began making her way towards where the screams were coming from. Shouting over her shoulder at Eric, she saw that he was following her. Bat poised and ready, he looked like an insane doctor with the mask.

The two careened around a corner to see a mob of orange jumpsuits. They were advancing in an arc slowly towards…Rachel? Was that her? Why was she in the Narrows? Jane shot at a man's thigh and he fell forward, taking down another man as he went. The others scattered, scared by the noise of the gun that was heightened by the fear toxin. Jane held the gun by her side as she ran over to Rachel, bending to put a hand comfortingly in the young boy's hair. He looked from where he was curled into Rachel's side, his wide eyes looking at her dolefully. She could tell he was under the effects of the toxin, but Rachel didn't seem to be. Of course, Jane remembered. Bruce had given her the antidote.

"You need to get inside somewhere, Rachel. Barricade yourself in someone's house or something and stay there. It's dangerous out here, as if you couldn't tell yourself." Jane ordered. "_This _is what Crane's medicine does to people."

Rachel still looked startled to see her. "How did you-"

"Go," Jane cut her off, motioning to the boy. "Get him to safety. He's going to need to be kept secure and so do you. It's not safe for a woman and a young boy to be out here alone."

Rachel's mouth gaped open and closed like a fish as she took in Jane's haggard appearance. "You-you-you're a woman!"

"I have a fucking _gun_!" Jane held it in Rachel's face to prove her point. "What do you have? A taser? Yes, please prance around the Narrows and protect yourself with just that. Now _go_." Turning away, Jane caught Eric's look of shock. Without looking back at Rachel, Jane began to run down another street. Eric was once again behind her.

Stumbling upon another attack, Jane pointed the gun at a group of men surrounding another woman crouched, crying over a dead body. She shot one of the men in the arm, and his friends quickly turned to glare at her. Instead of them running like she expected, they advanced upon she and Eric. "Looks like we will need that bat, Eric." Jane hissed between her teeth, shooting another man. They were too close this time, and one of them back-handed her. She tasted blood in her mouth.

Lashing out, she kicked the man in the gut and sent a punch into his jaw with her left hand. He backed down but was still too close for comfort. Jane flipped the gun around, throwing it up before catching it smoothly in her hand, and brought the handle of it onto the side of his head with all of her arm strength thrown behind it. Joined with another punch into his nose, her attacks sent him running away, holding his broken nose as blood spurted out.

Eric had knocked out the other man. He twirled his bat in his hand as he walked towards the woman. She screamed, standing and running away from him. "It's the fear toxin," Jane explained to him. "It makes her think that you're trying to attack her. Though you twirling the fucking bat like you're strolling through a park probably didn't help matters."

"This is some crazy shit." He shook his head, looking down at the dead guy. "What would make a person want to even make something like this possible?" Jane shrugged, reaching up to touch her lip. It was split, but not much of a wound.

"It's Crane. What do you expect? The man's a damn lunatic. Come on, we need to keep moving."

They were racing down an empty alley when a horse galloped around the corner and rushed towards them. Eric shouted a warning to Jane, and she reflexively turned her head to the sound of her name instead of twisting out of the path of the horse like she should have done. Eric's eyes widened and he pushed her out of the way, and Jane's body twisted and turned until she hit the wall. The horse was hurtling at full speed now, and Eric was too slow to move. Jane screamed as Eric's body collided with the horse, falling down onto the ground, and was barreled over. He screamed in agony before a hoof connected with the center of his face, crushing it and silencing him eerily. Jane's hand flew to her mouth in horror at the gore, and she cried out at the bloody, managed mess. Her shriek echoed through the alley before a ghastly quiet weighed heavily in the air.

Eric was dead. One of the few friends that she had – completely gone. Terror and anger flooded her, and she lifted the gun, tailing it on the man sitting atop the horse. Her face fell as she recognized the bruised appearance of the man's face. Crane. His mask was gone, but there was heavy scarring around his mouth and nose, giving him a look that belonged in a horror movie. Jane didn't know what caused the disfiguration, but knew that whatever it was, it must have been painful. If she ever found out who did that to him, she'd give them a fucking award.

He smiled venomously at her. Squeezing the trigger, her shaking hands threw off her aim and the bullet scraped against his shoulder. He ignored it though, the sickening look growing stronger. His hands snapped the reins. The horse lurched forward towards where she was on the wall. Jane fired the gun again – but missed pitifully. She tried once more, met only with the sound the hollow clicking of an empty clip. Crane was close now. Too close for her to reload or grab the gun in her boot. Jane spun to the side. Her hand scraped against the wall just before she pushed herself off of it and began running at full speed down the closely lined alley. She didn't dare look over her shoulder, knowing Crane was following her by the loud beating of the horse's hooves against the ground.

Jane ran for her very life. Pushing her legs to their limits, she finally reached the mouth of the alley, quickly stumbling in the heavy boots towards the right. Racing up a fire escape, she slipped and fell against the metal of a railing. Gripping the cold metal in her hands, she let out a shuddering breath as her knees shook. Her legs were tired from all the running and the cumbersome weight of the boots. But she couldn't take them off just yet. Not until she got safely away from Crane.

Looking down, she saw him yank the steed to a halt. He jumped down smoothly, running to the staircase, his devilish eyes on her. Jane moved from the railing and grabbed onto the metal banister, using it to pull herself up the stairs as quickly as she could, taking them two at a time. Crane's fingers laced against her ankle, and she jerked it away before his grip could hold her back. He laughed at her as she scrambled up the stairs loudly, the empty gun still somehow in her hands. Her nails dug into her skin from her hard grip. The metal seemed to form against her flesh but she ignored the pain as Crane gained quickly upon her.

As she reached the top, Crane crashed his body against hers. Jane yelped as her bare legs scraped against the top of the building, Crane forcing her down with his weight. With a snarl, Jane turned underneath him and brought the butt of the gun up against his head using all the force she had. Crane hissed, grabbing the gun and tossed it away. He wrapped his hand around her neck, squeezing it. Baring his teeth, he clutched the collar of the sweatshirt and pulled her up.

His thumb digging into the center of her throat, she gasped emptily. Her head began to grow heavier, eyes struggling to stay open. "It's a shame your little _friend _arrived before we could have some fun," he sneered and relaxed his grip a little. Jane sucked in the air, coughing before he gripped back down. "Maybe we can fit some in now." He pushed her back down. Jane banged her head on the ground, letting out a hiss of pain as her head smacked the concrete and stars danced in her eyes.

Crane's cold hands were on her legs. His touch snapped her back to reality and she began fighting back. She struggled, refusing him what he sought. Crane grabbed a knife from his back pocket, and pierced th skin of her left shoulder. The blade sunk in deeply, jabbing her as it sliced her skin and veins. Jane blacked out for a second from the sheer pain, screaming shrilly as he twisted the blade in her skin. Crying out, she arched her back, trying to push her shoulders into the ground, away from him. Blood coated her arm in an instant, pouring out of the wound as he took the knife out. He laughed at her, holding the soaking weapon above her head, allowing some of the blood to roll off and onto her face.

Jane scrunched her eyes closed. Blood droplets ran over her skin and she twisted her head to the side, struggling to fight against the pain that pulsated at her shoulders. She needed to wrap it quickly or else she might bleed out. She would die here. Batman wasn't going to come save her now. Tears prickled her eyes as she thought of Bruce, and she felt Crane's weight back on her, straddling her hips with his knees on either side of her. Crane bent low, placing his nose in her hair to inhale deeply, exposing his neck at the same time.

Reacting, Jane bit Crane's neck, chomping down as hard as she could. She tasted his blood in her mouth but ignored it as he screeched in pain. He pulled at her hair and she let go, spitting out his taste on the ground beside her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and she yelped at the pressure on her wound as he hauled her up. "Bitch," he hissed, "you'll pay for that." Jane reared her head back and head-butted him, her skull blaring in pain as she did so. With her right hand, she formed a fist and punched him in the groin. It wasn't as effective as kneeling him there, but it would have to do for now. Bucking her hips, she also pushed him to the side as his hands went to protect his private parts and he rolled to the side.

Jane flipped onto her stomach, slipping on the blood from her shoulder as her boots tried to find purchase on the ground. She finally scrambled up into a standing position and put a bit of distance between her and him. Crane was still on the ground, cupping his groin. He looked up at her. Sneering with rage, he tried to stand but couldn't. Jane reached into her boot to grab the clip. She emptied the gun then jammed the clip inside, popping it back into place before pointing it at him. It was difficult with just one hand, but by balancing the gun unsteadily between her left hand and her hip, she managed.

It would be so easily to kill him right now. Just a flick of the finger and his life would be over. He deserved it. Because of Crane, this whole debacle had happened. He was the one who had formulated the toxin, poisoning hundreds of innocent people, and causing the deaths of countless. Not only that, he ruined the lives of several of his trusted patients, allowed murderers and rapists to get away clean of their crimes, and broken Jane down. He used her fears against her, inflicting her with his sick mind. He had raped her, drugged her, and humiliated her. Crane had singlehandedly caused too much heartache and pain.

The doctor stared at her. His eyes almost willed her to shoot him. He wanted to see what she would do. Squeezing her hand around the gun, her finger brushed against the trigger as she clenched her jaw. It would be simple. Quick. Painless. She had killed before. This time it would be for herself, not for others. She could end it right here, right now.

So why didn't she pull the trigger?

_No killing_. Jane was right – Crane did deserve to die. But she wasn't the judge, jury, and executioner anymore. She was something more than that now. If she shot him now, it wouldn't help anything or anyone. It wouldn't erase the events of the night or of nights prior. It wouldn't heal that hurt she felt. Dying by a bullet was too easy for him; not enough justification for everything that he had caused. Crane wouldn't get off that easily. Not when she could help it.

Jane dropped the gun back down by her side. He smiled at her as if he knew she wouldn't pull the trigger all along. "I knew you wouldn't do it," he laughed. "You're too _weak _now. You're too scared to do what is necessary. I did that to you. I _broke _you." Crane sounded proud as if he had formed her into who she was. A creator admiring his work.

"You're right. You did break me." She agreed and took a step closer to him. "But I'm stronger now because I'm not going to kill you. Death would be too easy of a punishment for the likes of _you_. You're a disgrace now. Nothing more than just another loony from Arkham. That's all you'll ever be. Sooner or later your time will come, but it's not right now." Lifting the gun, she pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced through his shoulder and Crane yelled. He instantly clutched the wound, his eyes angrily going to her as his hand reddened from the blood. Unlike him, she had been smart enough to shoot him in his dominant arm. He was quite an idiot for a doctor. "You're pathetic."

Bringing the gun back down across his head, she pushed him onto the ground. Placing one foot on his left wrist to immobilize that arm, she bent down. She slapped his hand on his shoulder away and dug her thumb into his wound. Crane cried out, jerking underneath her as she twisted it. It was sadistic, cruel, but she felt better doing it. She couldn't kill him, but she wanted him to know that she wasn't going to forget all that he had done to both her and others.

She pressed down a little harder, enjoying the look on his face as he scrunched it in pain. It was about time that _he_ was the one to be hurt for once. For far too long he had enjoyed the pain inflicted on others. Now, he was helpless and she held his life, his pain, in her hands. Removing her hand, she stood above him. Jane kicked him in the side, and then shot him in the leg.

"I'll make sure to find one of your _inmates _down there," she smiled at him. "Maybe they might enjoy your…_situation_."

Jane went back to Eric's body. The gun was in her sweatshirt pocket, her right hand clinging to her left shoulder in an attempt to stop the bleeding as she went down the stairs. Jane had ripped a bit of fabric from Crane' shirt before she left him on top of the building and had used her teeth and free hand to wrap it around the wound. It wasn't properly wrapped, but it was tugged as tightly as she could manage. She had put her hand on it to help the bandage work its magic. She knew that she needed to get some medical attention quickly, but for now she wanted to check on Eric.

His body was where it had been trampled. Face marred by the crushing, Jane resisted the urge to get sick at the sight of the broken bones. The entire center of his face was caved in. If it wasn't for the fact that she had seen it happen, she wouldn't have recognized him at all. Tears fell down her cheeks as se lowered herself to sit beside him. Eric had been so kind to her… If she hadn't asked him to help her out he wouldn't be dead now.

She realized that she knew very little about Eric. Was he married? Did he have kids? If so, how old were they? Jane brought her knees to her chest, burying her face against her kneecaps as she sobbed. Eric was dead. Her friend, gone. And she knew nothing about him. No overly fond memories that she could comfort herself with. Just the knowledge that he had cared about her and others enough to risk his life to help her protect them.

No one but her would know the sacrifice that he had made. He would be just another number on the death toll. Another body. Sniffing, she brought her head back up. She couldn't stay for too much longer. The Narrows was still dangerous. Still…she should go through Eric's things to find out more about him. That way, she could tell his family of what he had done. She noticed the gold wedding band on his fingers and frowned as she slipped it off. She didn't remember him speaking of a wife. She put it one of her boots and went through his pockets, finding only his wallet and his beeper. After pocketing these two things as well, she glanced at him one last time before turning around and heading down the alley.

* * *

Batman had found her later that night. He had met with Gordon and saw that she wasn't in the vehicle. Gordon explained to him what she had done, and he set off to find her. When he did, she was walking along an empty alley, most people now hiding in their homes in protection against the dangers their minds formed due to the fear toxin. Her gun was by her side. Though her steps were a little shaky, she managed to find her way close to the bridge. Her crude judgment of the time told her it was about four in the morning, and adrenaline had long since left her. Weariness combined with the blood loss exhausted her, but she managed to stay upright and moving. Her shoulder had stopped bleeding. Yet the pain was still deep in there, and she winced whenever she moved it either by accident or habit.

Jane heard the swooping of his cape and the solid _thump _of his boots hitting the ground. She stopped, taking in a deep breath. He would reprimand her for sure. Not really wanting to face his wrath but still glad that he was there, she turned slowly. Jane briefly wondered what she looked like. Earlier, Eric had compared her to a woman warrior. Now she probably looked like something the woman warriors tried to kill.

Batman said nothing, but Jane saw the hard set of his jaw. Like her, he clenched it when he was angry or upset. She shrugged, wincing at the pain flowering on her shoulder and cursed her stupidity. "Hi." She said simply, not knowing what else to say at the moment. He stared at her in silence. "Look, if you're just going to –"

"What happened to you?" He interrupted. His eyes glittered hard and with concern. Jane sucked in a breath, looking down at her figure. Her home-made bandage was soaked through with blood, as well as several streaks running down the grey sweatshirt she wore. The sweatshirt was also torn in some places, covered in patches of dirt and filth. Her boots scuffed, her claves red and blistered from where they had rubbed up against her skin. Her legs were covered in swipes of grime and the skin was ripped at her knees from when she had struggled against the concrete on the rooftop with Crane.

Her knuckles were torn, blood caked and dried on. Her palms were also scratched up, nails broken. She didn't even want to look at her face. Still, she could feel some of the ash and dust on it. That, combined with the dried blood and the ring of bruises around her neck probably enhanced the mess of her hair as well as the look of loss and sadness in her eyes. A sight she was.

"Nothing more than what happened to any other person down here," she said gravely. Jane looked back up at him and saw he stood barely a foot away from her now. She swallowed thickly. "It could be worse. I could be dead."

He didn't say anything in reply. Jane prepared herself for a bunch of scolding. He had, after all, told her to try not to play hero. Instead, he put his arms around her gently and stepped closer. She was engulfed in a sweet hug, his cape fluttering around them. Jane bit her lip, struggling to not cry again as she put her head against his chest. Closing her eyes, she sighed, leaning completely into him and his embrace. He always knew exactly what she needed.


	16. Chapter 16: Epilogue

**A/N: The final chapter of the first part of 'Shattered'! Dang. First completed little thing ever. So excited and proud XD It's a short epilogue, but it'll tie up this section so we can move on to the next. I will post an update here whenever I post the sequel or you could add me to an author alert. Hope you guys have enjoyed this as much as I have! :D**

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A few days later, Gotham was basically back to what could be considered normal when compared to that horrifying night. The death toll wasn't nearly as horrendous as Jane expected, but still a nice number. People were going back to work and newspapers mostly stopped publishing about what had went on. News reports kept talking about Batman though. They praised him for saving the city, placing him on a high pedestal. On the streets, people spoke of how thankful they had been for him. If it hadn't been for him, the whole city would still be destroying itself because of the tear gas. Raz Al Ghul was dead, but the media didn't know he was involved or that he even existed. For all they knew, the whole debacle had taken place because of Crane – who was now in hiding somewhere.

It didn't shake Jane that Crane wasn't in custody. She knew that he would probably find a way to escape from the police. He might come and find her to seek revenge for escaping him yet again, but she wasn't too worried about that. Somehow, gaining that power over him had put her mind at ease. She defeated him. She had knocked him back into his proper place, no longer giving him that edge he had held for far too long over her. Jane _could _beat him, and by doing so had proven to herself that she was stronger than ever before. Yes, he had broken her down, but what she had built back up made her even more of a better person than she had ever hoped to be.

Her shoulder was stitched and healing. It still hurt a bit, and she didn't move it around a lot, but other than that it was more of a bother than anything. She now resembled a human being, all cleaned and fresh in her favorite plaid shirt and jeans, her own boots stable underneath her. For the past few days, she had lived with Bruce in one of the guest bedrooms of his inner city penthouse. He had insisted that she stay until she had 'healed'. Jane knew he just wanted to keep a close eye on her though. Eric's death still shook her more than anything.

Their relationship hadn't advanced further, which was fine with Jane for now. She had come to terms with the fact that while he did care for her, he was in love with Rachel. It hurt like hell, and oftentimes she wondered if she was doing the right thing by staying around him, but she couldn't do anything about it. She had already lost one friend - she refused to lose another.

"Eric Washington." Jane said. Alfred typed in the name into Gotham's YellowPages website. Two names pulled up: one, a thirty-seven year old man and another a seven-year-old child. Naturally, Alfred chose the prior and Jane grabbed a pen and piece of paper, jotting down the address. She folded up the piece of paper and slid it into her pocket. "Thanks Alfred," she smiled then bent to give the butler a kiss on the forehead.

She jumped off of the stool and went to the door. Opening it, she was startled to see Bruce standing in his suit, hand poised to open the front door to enter the apartment himself. He was the perfect picture of high society, as always. All crisp and sharp in the charcoal gray Armani suit with his hair pushed back. His eyebrows rose as he saw she was about to leave, and he stepped inside, forcing her to step back as well in order to not collide with him.

"Going somewhere?" He asked as he closed the door. Jane pursed her lips, arching an eyebrow as her eyes left his to look at the door behind him.

"As a matter of fact, yes. I'm going to go to Eric's house to see if anyone lives there. If they do, then I'm going to give them his wallet and ring and tell them what Eric did that night. They deserve to know the truth, and I feel like I should tell them. After all, I'm the only reason he was killed in the first place."

Bruce's face darkened. "You can't blame yourself for that forever, Jane. He voluntarily went with you."

"But he wouldn't have gone with me if I hadn't asked him to."

"You said he had a bat, right? He wasn't anywhere near the bridge or Arkham when you two found each other. Was the address you found in the Narrows or in the city?"

"That doesn't mean anything, Bruce." She shook her head and stepped around him. "I shouldn't be gone long." When she opened the door, his hand appeared and pushed back, closing it. Her eyes flashed to his and she glared at him. "Let me go. I have to do this. It's only right."

"I agree. You _should_ talk to his family. However, you _shouldn't _blame yourself for his death. He was doing what you were doing – protecting innocent people. He had a weapon, and he wasn't around a safe place when you two found each other. Crane was the one who killed him, not you. The sooner you get that through your head, the sooner you can go and talk to them. Until then, you'll stay here."

"You can't make me," she fired childishly. "I'm a grown woman and can leave and go when I want. As soon as you leave, I'll just sneak out. Simple as that. So you might as well just let me go now so I can go ahead and do it. You and I both know who will ultimately win this."

He shook his head. Sighing, he dropped his hand and Jane felt the smugness of victory wash through her. Until, that is, his hand gripped her un-hurt arm and began tugging her towards her bedroom. Scowling, she yanked away. He was still far stronger, and merely pulled her harder. "Let me go, asshole. You can't _do _this," she hissed. Bruce didn't reply and continued to half-carry her, half-pull her to the room. Alfred watched in amusement, shaking his head before disappearing into the kitchen.

Bruce opened the door. He stepped in and gently pushed her into the room as well. Jane whirled around, clenching her jaw as he closed the door. "_Don't _do that again or you will severely regret it. Now let me pass."

"Not until you say that you didn't cause his death."

"Why? _Why _does it matter so much to you? You shouldn't even care. You didn't ask someone for help then watch as they become trampled to death because someone's trying to get to you. Eric might have been trying to save Gotham too, but he wouldn't have been in that part of town I was in if it weren't for _me_. Crane wouldn't have killed him if I wasn't there! None of this would have happened if I had stayed with Gordon in the Tumbler and followed your orders. I try and help out, but people just die around me. " She pushed her fingers through her hair, turning away from him and storming over to the window. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the pane. Down below, cars were jamming the streets and people were walking around freely. They had forgotten what happened that night. Why couldn't she?

"I didn't even know his last name. He befriended me at Arkham when I worked with Crane. Watched out for me and told me what all was happening. Without him, we wouldn't have figured out what Crane was up too until it was too late. Gotham probably would have fallen." She whispered to herself. "And I didn't know a damn thing about him."

"You still just can't keep blaming yourself. It isn't healthy. You'll only succeed in driving yourself mad because of it. He wouldn't want you to live on like that. All you can do is mourn him and move on with your life. Otherwise, you're as good as dead."

Jane wiped her eyes. Turning to look at Bruce, she had to admit that he was right. Eric would be pissed if she stayed like this…mess for forever. He had died, but that didn't mean she had to either. Blaming herself wouldn't bring him back. All she could do was let his family know how good of a man he was and remember how much he helped her out. She just had to pick up the pieces he left behind. Like with her situation with Crane, she couldn't let it control how she lived her life from here on out. Dusting herself off and moving forward defined who she was and tested her strength. Now was the time to ultimately prove that she was ready to go on and start her life over.

"I guess you're right." She mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Her shoulder dully throbbed from the movement, but she ignored it. Bruce walked towards her and put his hands on the top of her arms. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles on the fabric of her plaid shirt.

"I'm glad you finally see that," he smiled at her. Jane rolled her eyes comically, attempting to raise the mood of the room.

"It's not going to happen often. So don't get used to it." Putting her hands on his chest, she was about to push him away when something made her stop. She peeked up at Bruce from underneath her lashes and was surprised to see they were smoldering. That lust was still evident there. The same look she had witnessed just before they left the cave that night. She had seen it a few times since then, but never in such strength as she did now.

Slowly, Bruce lowered his head, brushing his lips against hers but not kissing her. He was teasing her. Giving her a taste of what she already experienced and holding back. Well, _two _could play at that game. Jane pushed him away from her, and he was so caught off guard that he actually moved away from her from her push. Smiling innocently at him, she walked around him and to the door, opening it, but closed it behind her. She wanted the damn kiss but not if he was going to act like _that._

Heading towards the door, she opened the front one just as Bruce opened the bedroom one. She looked over her shoulder, giving him a snarky smile, and Bruce followed her as she left. "We can take my car. I'll go with you so you won't have to waste money on a cab." Before she opened her mouth, he cut her off again, "and no, you're not driving with your shoulder still not completely healed. I like my cars intact." Jane huffed in annoyance, but didn't protest. They rode the elevator to the garage, and then Bruce opened her door for her.

"I'm not a cripple," she growled but slid in anyway. Bruce smirked, closing the door and went around to open the driver's side, sliding in smoothly.

He cranked the engine, the expensive purr a stark contrast to the loud roar of the Tumbler. "It's the gentleman thing to do."

* * *

Jane was grateful for Bruce's presence as she spoke with Eric's sister. Something about Bruce being there made it easier for Jane to explain how she came to know Crane – leaving out a few chunks of the story, of course – and how he had befriended her. Jane told her how brave he was and that he had saved multiple people that night. She handed her the wallet and ring and was about to leave the young woman asked if she would like to stay for a minute.

Eric's wife had died a few years ago, which explained why he never spoke of her. He had no children of his own, and had invited his younger sister to live with him while she completed graduate school. Eric had never really fully got over his wife's death and therefore didn't really branch out to get to know other people. He seemed to have a knack of perception, was very smart, and a good person. The revelation that he didn't have many friends outside of work didn't surprise Jane very much. Eric had a vivacious personality, but the work hours at Arkham were indeed very demanding.

The woman seemed a little shocked at Bruce Wayne's presence in her home. She assumed that Jane and Bruce were a couple, asking if they were married when she began to speak of Eric's former marriage. Jane vehemently denied it, blushing furiously as she did so. Married? Jane didn't think of herself as the marrying type, even now that she had changed so much over the last few weeks. Intimacy and love were still vaguely taboo to her.

They stayed a little longer than she expected, but the gratitude on the woman's face made it worth it. She hadn't brought Eric back from the dead. Jane had, however, helped a grieving and mourning family member while helping her understand the type of man her brother truly was. Jane embraced the woman before she left and thanked her for the tea as well as the background information on Eric. Apparently, Eric had always been a private person, so the sister understood her lack of knowledge on him.

When they left, Jane felt a weight lifted from her. She had come to terms with the fact that she had not caused Eric's death. Not only had she discovered more information on her friend, but she felt that she could truly call Eric a friend and mean it. She knew about his past now. It didn't feel false to think of him as someone close to her. He might not have been close when compared to other people's 'close' friends, but to Jane – someone who usually didn't make friends – he was a very close friend indeed. Knowing about him helped her heal, too. It gave a story behind the face. A past to the person who formerly had none.

"Feel better now?" Bruce asked her as they entered the penthouse. Being a humble person from a tiny apartment in the Narrows, she space still surprised her every time she walked in. The back wall was made entirely of windows overlooking the city. In the distance, Wayne Tower stood tall and proudly. The furniture was very modern, sleek black with hard lines in a geometric fashion. The floor was a black tile, shining from overhead lights that were bent in cool shapes.

A fireplace stood in the center of the space, dividing the dining area and the living room space. The kitchen was through a door on the far left, the bedrooms to the right. The master suite was the furthest door. Jane's was the next, Alfred's beside hers. Each room had a private bath, and across the hall there was a sliding glass door that led onto a huge balcony with a sweeping view of the ground below. The penthouse was on the top floor and had private roof access, but Jane had yet to venture up there. Entirely, the place reeked of money.

"Yes," Jane replied. She went to her bedroom but kept the door open to tell him it was okay to follow. Jane unbuttoned her plaid shirt, taking it off to reveal the white tank top beneath. Her shoulder needed re-wrapping to allow the wound a bit of breathing air. Hissing as she unwound the layers of medical tape and wrap, she pulled it off her skin and tossed it into the trash. Bruce appeared at her side with fresh supplies and a wet rag.

"Sit." He said, shrugging off his jacket. Jane lowered herself to the bed. She examined her wound as Bruce rolled up his sleeves. It was healing rather well. Soon, the stitches and redness would be replaced with a scar. Putting the rag to the wound, Bruce gently washed over it, careful not to press too hard. Jane moved her eyes to look at his. They were concentrating on the shoulder, but when he felt her gaze, he looked up at her. Bruce was sitting on his knees at her feet so he was just a little below eye-level with her, and this time it was him that had to look up.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for taking me. You always make me feel better." He smiled, shaking his head as if he didn't believe her and moved the rag away. Jane lifted her hand, grabbing his wrist and tugging him back to look at her. Seriously, she said, "no. Really, Bruce. No matter how fucked up I am, you always help. I'd be dead if it weren't for you. You've…saved me. Changed me to become a good person. I've never thanked you for doing that and you deserve it. You're the best man I've ever met."

Before he could speak, Jane pressed her lips down against his. She moved her hand at his wrist up the length of his arm, stopping at his strong bicep. Moving her other one, she mirrored her actions until she was clutching him, pulling him up and closer to her. Bruce moved eagerly against her, parting her lips. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth and Jane couldn't help but moan as she tasted him. She fell back on the bed, tugging him down with her so that he was now lying on top of her, his weight delicious and wonderful on her. She wanted him there. She wanted him to press her against the bed, to feel all of him on her.

Parting her legs, she wrapped them around his waist. The position forced his lower half up against hers, and Jane broke apart to gasp as her hips grinded against his. Throwing her head back, she let out a strangled whimper as Bruce wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her up towards his body, then moved them to the center of the large bed. Her head hitting the pillow, Jane moaned a little more loudly as his hips bumped into hers. She could feel his arousal against her jeans. His hardness excited her even more, lighting her body as if it were on fire.

His mouth moved to the sensitive flesh just underneath her ear. She gasped, and her hands moved up the length of his neck to bury in his hair. In an attempt to get him closer to her, she arched her back into him, pressing her chest against his. Her shoulder protested a little, but she brushed the pain aside as she focused on the pleasure Bruce was giving her. He moved his hand down her neck to her cloth-clad breast, lightly squeezing it. Then, he trailed it down the small curve of her side, moving underneath her tank top. Dragging it upwards with him, he broke apart, pulling her up into a sitting position. Her legs fell from where they were wrapped onto either side of his waist.

He lowered his hands to the front of her shirt, shedding it from her and tossing it over his shoulder. His eyes gazed down at her appreciatively and Jane felt self-conscious for a moment. She wasn't built like a real woman. She was a little more scrawny and muscular, lacking feminine curves. Rarely did she consider this a bad factor, but what would Bruce think? Unlike other women he had probably been with, she wasn't graced with a generous bust-size or hips to hold on to. All she had going for her was a flat stomach and a nice, perky bottom. Would that be enough?

Apparently it was. Bruce latched his lips back onto hers with more fervor, molding them to her as she traced his bottom lip with her tongue. Her skin was hot, blushing with the heat of arousal. Sex for her had normally been awkward in prior times, so she had all but given up on the act. Of course, her last experience hadn't been pleasant in the least…

The memory flashed painfully in her mind, wiping away her desire and need for contact. The pain that had come with the act cut through her like a knife, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her body stiffened and Bruce noticed this, breaking contact with her lips to look down at her. All she could remember was Crane's grip on her hips and him tearing her apart on the inside with his rough, hard thrusts. Bruce wasn't Crane, and she wanted desperately to forget about the incident. But she couldn't.

Jane ran her hands through her hair callously, making fists as she sat up into a sitting position. Bruce leaned back on his heels, eyeing her with concern as she tried to force the memory of the rape out of her mind. He seemed to understand what was going on, and moved off the bed to grab her plaid shirt. Sitting down next to her, he draped it over her shoulders. Bruce wrapped his arm around her, bringing her towards him so that she was cocooned against him.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized, feeling incredibly guilty. Jane had been the one to initiate the act and had been more than willing to follow through with it. "Really, I am. It's not you, not at all. It's just –"

"I know." He said soothingly. "You don't have to explain anything to me."

"I should have known this was going to happen." She buried her face into his chest. Her eyes were still squeezed tightly as embarrassment colored her cheeks. "If you need to go take care of something, I'll be fine…"

Bruce shook his head as he ran his hand up and down her arm in a comforting fashion. "Don't worry about me, Jane. None of that matters, okay? Just relax for me. Let's take a little nap and when we wake up, if you want to talk about it, we will. Sounds good?" Jane nodded against him, not moving up to speak. He continued to stroke her until she eventually fell asleep, curled up on top of him.

* * *

The next day, Bruce, Jane, and Alfred went to where Wayne Manor used to be. A few skeletal walls remained, but most of it was pure rubble and ash. Bruce and Alfred looked on it in sadness and nostalgia of the glorious home that it used to be. Now it was gone. Burned to a smoldering and huge pile beneath them.

Jane was rifling through a section that used to be the parlor when Rachel's car pulled up into the driveway. She got out, and slowly walked across the grass to where Jane was. Standing from her crouch, Jane wiped her hands on her pants. Rachel looked beautiful in her white champagne colored blouse and black pencil skirt. Though she looked out of place amongst the burnt piles, she would have been perfect standing in the halls when the home stood.

"Where…can I find Bruce?" Rachel asked. Jane saw the look in her eyes and knew Rachel knew the truth about her friend. "I mean, I didn't come here just to talk to him…I also came to say, you know, _thanks_ for your testimony against Falcone. You'll help the case a lot. Especially now that Crane has been debunked. Gordon told me that you called him earlier and agreed to it." The woman crossed her arms over her chest uncomfortably, shifting from side to side. "I, uh, made a lot of assumptions about you. Assumptions that were wrong and groundless. I'm really sorry about that."

"They weren't completely groundless," Jane shrugged and gave the woman a kind smile. "I would have thought the same if I was in your place. As for the testimony? It's no big deal. Falcone needs to be in jail. He's been getting away with stuff for far too long." Rachel looked at her gratefully, seeming glad that Jane had accepted her apology. "Bruce is this way. I'll take you to him."

Bruce was nailing boards over the well when the two women walked up to him. He looked up, a look of shock on his face as he saw Rachel. The two looked at each other uncomfortably for a moment, Bruce shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I'm sorry for not telling you," Bruce began, but Jane shook her head.

"No, no Bruce. I'm sorry. The day that Chill died I said terrible things."

"True things. I was a coward with a gun. Justice is about more than revenge."

Rachel smiled and stepped closer to Bruce. "I never stopped thinking about you and our friendship. You've changed a lot since you got back. Both for good…and the dangerous. I just hope that you stay careful." She raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed him on the forehead. As she turned to walk away, she put a hand on Jane's shoulder. "I was wrong about the both of you. Your father would be very proud of you, Bruce. And he would like you, Jane. Just like I do."

Rachel walked away, going back to her car. Jane couldn't keep the smile off her face, soaking in the praise as well as what looked to be a very happy Bruce. He went to her, cupping his hand around hers. The two walked together over to where Alfred was examining a picture frame of Bruce's parents they had found earlier.

"What will you do now?" Jane asked him as they walked around the home.

"Rebuild it." Bruce nodded firmly, squeezing her hand. "Just the way it was – brick for brick."

"Hmm…exactly the way it was?" She nudged him with her shoulder. "Perhaps this would be a good time for renovations. Particularly in the southeast corner." Jane gave him a knowing smile and Bruce laughed, dropping her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulder.

"The southeast corner, eh? Not a bad idea."


	17. Author's Note & Update

First, a huge thank you to all of my reviewers! You guys really helped me perservere and continue writing the sequel and helped me to become more confident in my writing skills. Thank you so so so much – there is no way I could ever express my gratitude! Also, a huge hug for those who PM'd me very kind messages: you know who you are and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thanks to those who have favorited this story and myself – you're awesome :D and to those who follow.

The second part of the "Shattered" series has been posted: "Broken." This is not a completed work, but I hope to wrap it up soon. Planning on finishing the ninth chapter today and starting the tenth tonight, so I'm a bit ahead. I hope that you enjoy this next part as much as Shattered even though it isn't as action-packed. It's more of a character development piece.

Hope you guys enjoy and please keep those reviews coming in! They really REALLY help! :D

Stay awesome!

xLevitate


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